


Welcome to World Academy

by CommanderCryptic



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gakuen, Drama, F/M, Humor, Jealousy, Light Angst, Love Triangles, M/M, Music, Orchestra, Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:14:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 56,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26758579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CommanderCryptic/pseuds/CommanderCryptic
Summary: Feliciano Vargas is an anti-confrontational boy with a love for pasta, friends, and pretty ladies.But is there something more to add to that list?Follow him and his acquaintances through an eventful year at the prestigious World Academy, where drama and romance are bound to happen.
Relationships: America/Lithuania (Hetalia), America/Russia (Hetalia), Belarus/Lithuania (Hetalia), England/France (Hetalia), Germany/North Italy (Hetalia), Hungary/Prussia (Hetalia), Lithuania/Russia (Hetalia), South Italy/Spain (Hetalia)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 24





	1. First Encounters

Feliciano woke up to the feeling of warm sunlight hitting his face. Immediately, he threw the covers aside and sprung from his bed. "Ve~ Good morning world!" he cheered, loud enough to wake the entire house. Which is exactly what happened, unfortunately. "SHUT UP, YOU STUPID BASTARD!" Feliciano turned around, only to see an incredibly fearsome sight. It was his older brother Lovino, who looked angry and tired. "Some of us were trying to sleep!" yelled Lovino, crossing his arms across his chest. Feliciano patted his big brother on the shoulder.

"Sorry, fratello! I'll be more quiet next time!" he promised, his cheery voice never faltering in the slightest. Lovino grumbled something under his breath and trudged off, never once removing the scowl from his face. "Big brother is so angry all the time. Maybe he should eat more pasta, that always makes me happy!" Feliciano said to himself. He glanced at the small clock on the wall and cried out in panic. "OH NO! IT'S ALREADY 8:00! I'M GONNA BE LAAAAATE!" Feliciano got dressed in a hurry and rushed downstairs. He was greeted by his grandpa, who seemed to be flirting with a lady on the phone. The moment he saw his grandson, Rome put down the phone and grinned happily.

"Feliciano, you're awake!" he exclaimed, his voice booming through the kitchen. He gestured to the plate of pasta on the countertop. "Why don't you have breakfast?" Feliciano stared at the pasta in admiration. It looked delicious, too delicious to resist… His gaze shifted to Grandpa Rome's watch, and was instantly reminded of his situation. Despite his stomach's growls of anguish, Feliciano pushed the pasta away.

"Sorry, Grandpa, I'm already about to miss the bus!" he cried before grabbing his bag. In the midst of his frenzy, the Italian noticed a small white flag laying on the couch. Feliciano picked up the flag and shoved it in his backpack. _Maybe people won't bully me if I wave this around really fast!_

The bus ride was far from pleasant. The road was bumpy, the weather was hot, and the sounds of highschoolers yelling echoed through the vehicle. Feliciano cradled his head in his hands and frowned. Meanwhile, his brother was yelling at the junior sitting in the seat in front of him.

"Come on, Lovi! You should relax one in a while!" insisted Antonio. Lovino glared daggers at the Spaniard and continued to mutter obscenities. "Honestly, mon cheri, I'm not sure what you see in him." commented Francis with an exaggerated sigh. The Prussian sitting next to him nodded.

"Yeah! He's un-awesomely grouchy all the time!" Gilbert added, his scratchy voice piercing through Feliciano's skull. Antonio merely smiled and turned his attention back to the Italians.

So, are you excited for your Sophmore year?" he asked enthusiastically.

"Oh, totally! I just hope the teachers don't yell at me and make me openly weep out of fear." Feliciano replied, with an equal amount of enthusiasm.

"No. It's gonna be another boring, stupid, year." predicted Lovino. Antonio grinned and patted the older Italian on the head.

"Don't worry, Lovi! We can give you some advice!" Feliciano doubted the credibility of Antonio, Francis, and Gilbert's advice. They were upperclassmen, but they weren't exactly the brightest students at World Academy. Francis was more preoccupied with girls, and Gilbert was just there to have fun. Antonio, on the other hand, had different motives. Specifically, a person. That person being Lovino Vargas.

"Tch. I don't care about your stupid advice, so you should just give up." rejected Lovino with a scoff. Ignoring Lovino's look of disdain, Francis gazed at the ceiling and smiled wistfully.

"Ah, I remember my Sophomore year. 10 different girls asked me out to the homecoming dance, it was wonderful!" mused the Frenchman. "Kesesese! You never ended up going with any of them though!" reminded Gilbert with a loud laugh. Francis stared at the person sitting a few feet away in admiration. He had messy blonde hair, green eyes, and strange eyebrows. "Of course. The ladies were all gorgeous~ but not as gorgeous as my little Angleterre!" Francis blew a kiss at the Brit, who rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"Shut it, frogface! The only reason I accepted your stupid invitation is that I felt sorry for you, that's all!" lied Arthur, his cheeks dusted with pink. Feliciano watched in awe. How could Arthur be so adamant about denying his true feelings? Back in Italy, it was practically considered a crime to not express your true love. Feliciano's eyes darted to Lovino, who looked like he wanted to slap and make out with Antonio at the same time. _Well, maybe he's an exception._

Feliciano felt a sharp peck on the top of his head. "Ouchie! That really hurt!" he cried out, rubbing his head tenderly. Much to his surprise, the peck was from a puffin! _He looks kind of scary! I hope he doesn't kill me!_

"Mr. Puffin! Get back here!" The Italian noticed the voice sounded Scandinavian, but it was kind of difficult to distinguish exactly which country it was from. Ignoring the "don't get up from your seat" sign plastered to the wall, a blonde boy hurried over to Feliciano's seat and grabbed the puffin by his wing.

"Little brother, you should not have brought that bird to school with you." said another voice, this one sounding distinctly Norwegian. The other boy frowned and sat back down. "Mr. Puffin would have gotten really mad at me if I left him alone at home for 8 hours straight, Lukas," he insisted, a slightly annoyed expression on his face. Lukas ruffled the boy's hair in an affectionate way, causing the boy to pout.

"I told you to call me big brother." Determined to ignore Lukas, the boy looked for something else to pay attention to.

"Hey, you. The one with the curl." Both of the Italian brothers turned around. Once he realized the boy probably wasn't talking to him, Lovino faced the back of the seat in front of him again.

"Ciao, friend! I'm Feliciano, what's your name?"

"My name's Emil. That's my big broth-" Emil cut himself off. "Lukas. That's Lukas."

"Oh, cool! So, what country are you from?" asked Feliciano, genuinely curious to know.

"Iceland. And no, it's not just a giant iceberg. That's Greenland." Feliciano nodded and heard a loud noise from the back of the bus. Frightened, he began muttering his own will under his breath. Emil sighed in irritation, looking like he was about to facepalm.

"Don't worry about that guy over there, he's just an idiot."

Feliciano craned his neck to see which person the Icelandic boy was referring to. The so-called idiot had gravity-defying hair and a very outgoing personality. Currently, he was trying to arm wrestle with another boy, who looked tall and intimidating.

"Hahaha! You're probably just scared of losing to the King of Scandinavia!" The taller boy glowered, not opening his mouth. He looks really scary! Feliciano cowered at the sight, which did not go unnoticed by a certain Finnish junior sitting nearby.

"Hey, there! I just wanted to let you know that Berwald isn't actually that scary, he just looks kind of like he's about to murder you!" he assured cheerfully as if he had explained the same thing multiple times before. His name is Berwald. Nice, I already know the names of two new people!

"Oh, okay!" Feliciano said, still secretly intimidated by Berwald's appearance. "So, who are you?"

The boy grinned. "I'm Tino. It's very nice to meet you!" Feliciano noticed the similarities in their appearances. "Are you guys brothers or something?"

Tino shook his head and laughed nervously. "Not really. Well, Lukas and Emil are siblings, but not the rest of us. Since we're all from Nordic countries, we look kind of alike." He pointed to the obnoxious-sounding boy with spiky hair. "That guy is Mattias. He's from Denmark, and Berwald's from Sweden."

"Thanks for introducing them to me! My name's Feliciano, I hope we can be friends!" Tino nodded, smiled, and started talking to another boy. This one wore glasses and looked very distressed. Feliciano didn't mean to eavesdrop, but he caught pieces of their conversation over the ambient noises of the bus.

"Please, can I join your group? Maybe if I was part of your gang, Ivan would stop terrorizing me!" he pleaded desperately.

Tino furrowed his eyebrows and frowned. "Are you sure that's a good idea? Wouldn't Tolys and Raivis get upset at you for abandoning them?" The glasses-wearing-boy started biting his fingernails anxiously.

"Maybe, but I'm sure they wouldn't mind that much! Their group will be just fine with two members."

"Eduard, I don't really know about that. You three have been friends for so long, you can't just leave them now!" replied Tino, obviously reluctant to let his friend make hasty decisions.

"Yeah, but Ivan is terrifying! I'm scared he's gonna hack into my blog again!"

Feliciano cringed at the mention of Ivan. He had the displeasure of meeting the Russian before, and needless to say, Eduard was right. But Ivan was more than just intimidating like Berwald, he was downright scary. He always had that cheerful grin on his face, yet every word that came out of his mouth was anything but.

"I heard somebody was doing the talkings about me."

Eduard and Tino glanced back at the sound of the voice, and the Estonian nearly fainted out of fear. Feliciano shrank back in his seat, as did Lovino. The entire bus was silent, not a single person daring to interrupt the tense moment.

"U-uh, Ivan! I d-didn't know you were there!" said Eduard with an anxious chuckle. The tall Russian's smile didn't quite meet his eyes.

"Am I really that terrifying to you, comrade?"

Eduard gulped, his hands clamming up. "Of course not! Hehe…" Ivan bent over and picked something up from the ground.

"Okay, then! So this was all a big misunderstanding. In that case, I'm sure you wouldn't mind if we settled this differently, da?" He held up a large metal pipe. The Estonian let out a frightened yelp and scooted as far away from Ivan as he could get. Tino watched the scene play out in front of him with a look of concern on his face.

"Don't worry, dude! The hero will save you from this evil commie!" Feliciano recognized the voice. It was from Alfred F. Jones, the self-proclaimed hero.

"Ah, Alfred. I see you have decided to actually care about other people for once," remarked Ivan with a cold smirk. The American clenched his fist.

"What was that, commie? You wanna fight?"

"I would be more than happy to. After all, I have my magical pipe to help me." A boy who looked almost exactly like Alfred stood up to mediate.

"Guys! Please don't fight, it's only the first day of school!" begged Matthew, his voice unusually loud. Alfred glanced back at the Canadian, possibly rethinking his decisions.

"C'mon, Matt! I'm the hero, it's totally my job!" reminded Alfred. "Plus, this nerd was gonna get pummeled if I didn't step in to save him," he added, pointing to Eduard. Matthew pulled Alfred back into his seat.

"Yeah, and you would have gotten pummeled if I hadn't stepped in. What were you thinking, Ivan's crazy strong!" Alfred ignored the comment with a wave of his hand. "Nah, I can take him any day of the week."

"Burger-eating moron. Doesn't know when to keep his mouth shut," grumbled Lovino, just loud enough for Feliciano to hear. "Hey, that kind of reminds me of someone else I know!" replied the younger Italian. Lovino glared at Feliciano and punched him in the shoulder. Naturally, it didn't hurt at all. Lovino was an "all bark no bite" kind of guy and was actually pathetically weak just like Feliciano.

_I wonder if the cafeteria serves pasta. I didn't get to eat breakfast today, so I'm really hungry! But if they don't make pasta, I'm sure I could just teach them how. Hopefully, they have garlic, because that's super important when making pasta._ Feliciano's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the bus doors opening.

" _Merde_. We're already here." cursed Francis.

Gilbert groaned loudly. "Aww, come on! Things were just getting exciting!"

Feliciano, on the other hand, was eager to leave the bus. Watching fights between high school boys didn't sound like a very appealing way to spend his first day of school.


	2. Flustered

"Good morning, mister!" shouted Feliciano energetically the moment he entered the room. Heracles was taking a nap on his desk, sleeping soundly through the noises of the classroom. A small porcelain statue of a kitty cat sat on his desk, its watchful eyes peering at the students ominously. But of course, Heracles thought it was still cute. It was a cat, after all. It had to be adorable, right?

"So this guy's our teacher?" muttered Ludwig incredulously.

"I think we should still treat him with respect. He is still our _sensei,_ correct?" interjected Kiku.

" _Ja,_ I suppose you are right." admitted the German, still somewhat reluctant to believe that their teacher was asleep while he was supposed to be teaching.

"Ve~ that's good! Besides, that kitty on his lap looks super cute!" Feliciano commented. The Persian kitty purred audibly.

Ludwig's jaw dropped. "VHAT ZHE HELL?! Who let this guy bring a feline onto school grounds?!" he yelled, his voice echoing through the classroom, somehow not waking up Mr. Karpussi.

Kiku shrugged. "I do not have any input."

"Maybe it's the same person who let that guy take his puffin to class!" answered Feliciano, pointing to Emil, who was sitting in the corner of the room. "He was on my bus, too!"

Rubbing his temples in exasperation, Ludwig fought back the urge to scream. "Why do these _gottverdammt_ rules have to be so lax? Rules are necessary for order _und_ discipline!"

"I agree with Germany. There are probably some health and safety codes being broken by allowing animals inside the building-"

Kiku was interrupted by the opening and (excessively loud) closing of the classroom door. A short boy with choppy blonde hair and accusing jade eyes entered.

"Man up, will you? All you ever do is agree with other people, form your own opinion for once!" demanded the boy angrily.

Feliciano gulped out of fear and pulled out his white flag once again. He had already met the boy before. His name was Vash Zwingli. He came from Switzerland, and had an affinity for guns, saving money, and neutrality. And apparently yelling, too. The Italian had almost been shot in the leg by Vash one evening, after a wine-induced streaking session in the Swiss's lawn. Vash did not take well to it at all. Fortunately, he was on good terms with Ludwig, who Feliciano hoped would prevent any sort of physical altercations.

"Oh, _hallo_ Zwingli." greeted Ludwig curtly.

"Beilschmidt." responded Vash with a small nod before stomping over to his seat.

"Look! Mr. funny-eyebrow-man is in our class, too!" exclaimed Feliciano, pointing at Arthur. Arthur was halfway through the process of verbally admonishing Francis, shouting a long string of obscenities out loud. "WANKER! Stop trying to grab my-" The green-eyed boy's face turned red. "M-my vital regions…"

Francis let out a boisterous laugh and tossed his golden locks. " _Non? Mais pourquoi?_ I simply cannot resist, you must understand!"

Arthur rolled his eyes and sat back down. "Pervert. If we weren't at school right now, I would have smacked you upside the head."

Francis said nothing, but winked and blew Arthur a kiss instead before returning to his desk.

Kiku shuddered, imagining himself in Arthur's place. The Japanese boy could hardly handle being hugged, let alone being groped. "I think we should find our seats now."

Ludwig and Feliciano nodded before sitting down.

* * *

The bell chimed with a resonating _RING!_ Lovino (thankfully) found his first class on time, which just so happened to be AP Chemistry.

Mr. Adnan was an outgoing man who enjoyed going off on tangents and straying as far as possible from the intended purpose of the lesson. Lovino didn't really mind. After all, it was less work to do, right?

"So, then, Hercales went blabbering off about some philosophical nonsense!" recalled Sadiq, his arms waving around in the air wildly. "He stopped talking once we brought him a kitty, though."

"Hey, Lovi!" The Italian turned around glaring at whoever the person was. It was Antonio, with that same annoying grin plastered on his face. A grin that made Lovino's heartbeat ten times faster every time he saw it.

"What do you want, bastard?" grumbled Lovino, trying to hide his red face by looking at the floor. It didn't work, much to Lovino's own dismay.

"Haha, your face kind of looks like a giant tomato!" Antonio laughed outright, somehow not earning a lecture from Mr. Adnan. "It's so cute!"

Lovino's curl shaped itself into a heart. _Cute?! I'm not cute, dammit!_ Lovino crossed his arms over his chest and scowled. "Shut up." he spat, his voice not sounding as assertive as he intended.

Antonio did nothing of the sort, instead choosing to annoy his Italian tsundere even further. If he had been anyone else, Lovino would have beaten him up by now. Or at least tried, anyway.

"Well, if you're gonna be like that, maybe I shouldn't give this to you." The Spaniard picked up a small note hidden in a white envelope. The letter was addressed to Lovino, and had a small heart on it.

"Huh? What's that, give it to me!" commanded Lovino, his curiosity getting the best of him.

Antonio smirked and held the letter out of Lovino's reach teasingly. "Nope! _Lo siento,_ Lovi, but it seemed like you didn't want it anyway."

Lovino glowered at Antonio, mentally regretting his words. _Stupid tomato eater. Always doing this weird mushy stuff to me._ "Then why the hell would you show it to me in the first place, Toni?!" He clapped his hand over his mouth, wondering how he let the old nickname slip.

Antonio raised his eyebrows, green eyes glistening in amusement. "Toni, is it? I think I'll keep that name, it sounds very nice in your mouth."

Lovino's blush spread to the rest of his face, making him resemble a tomato even further. "S-shut up! It was just a mistake, don't go making assumptions!"

The look that Antonio flashed at him next wanted him to melt. Cursing to himself in Italian, Lovino buried his face in his hands in embarrassment. _Merda. How did I let that happen?!_

"Okay, everyone! Listen to me!" declared Sadiq. The Turkish man pointed to the various stations around the lab. "Split off into groups, and go do your experiment thing!"

A considerably short looking boy with blonde hair raised a trembling hand. "U-um, excuse me, but you didn't really tell us what w-we were supposed to do.."

Sadiq's proud smile faltered for a split second, then reappeared once more. "Well, do whatever you want then. Just don't get yourself killed, because I don't wanna get sued!"

Lovino was rather skeptical of his teacher's advice. After all, who wouldn't be?

Gilbert and Matthias. That's who.

"Kesesesese! This is awesome, we can do whatever we want!" cried Gilbert.

Matthias nodded and raised his fist in the air. "Yeah, baby! This is gonna be fun!"

Lukas, who was sitting nearby, frowned disapprovingly at the pair. "I am beginning to question the sanity of our teacher." the Norwegian stated before grabbing Matthias by his necktie with the intent of choking him.

Tino laughed nervously, glancing around the room warily. "Guys, maybe we should calm down a little bit." he suggested, his voice being drowned out by enthusiastic yells coming from Gilbert and Matthias.

Berwald merely glowered, his intimidating disposition scaring at least three-fourths of the class.

Lovino rolled his eyes and rested his chin on his palm. _Oh, great. It's only the first period, and my day is already ruined thanks to those idiots._ He unintentionally made eye contact with Antonio, who shot him a warm smile. _Damn him! Stupid Spaniards. Always making my life difficult._

Lovino stared at Gilbert, who was banging on his desk with two pencils like he was playing the drums. _And those potato eaters. They're the worst. Especially the tall one! I don't know what he wants with my little brother, but it can't be good!_

Glancing back to his left, Lovino noticed that Antonio left the white envelope unattended. Quickly, he snatched the letter from the tabletop and placed it in his lap.

_What could he be hiding from me that's this important, huh? Well, it sucks to be him, because I"m about to find out._

Unfortunately, it was too late. Before Lovino could even bring his fingers towards the envelope's seal, it was snatched away again.

Lovino glared up at the girl standing in front of him. She had a green ribbon headband and a catlike expression. "Emma! Give me the letter back!" he demanded, trying to look as menacing as possible.

The Belgian girl smirked and read the label on the front of the envelope. "This is for you, Lovi? It looks like a love letter, how sweet!" Emma sighed dreamily. "So, who's the lucky person?"

"None of your business! Now, give it to me!" replied Lovino.

Emma held the letter up to the light in an attempt to see through it. "It really is a love letter!" She squinted her eyes slightly. "There's some Spanish in there, too."

Lovino turned a vivid shade of red and covered his face with his hands. _Why does everybody have to be so nosy around here?!_

After analyzing the note for a few more seconds, Emma tossed it back to Lovino. "Here you go! But let me give you some advice: wait until after school to read it." She winked. "Then, nobody will be around to see you get even more flustered!"

The Italian quickly grabbed the letter and shoved it in his pocket. _What is that supposed to mean? Why should I even take her advice anyways, I could read it right now if I wanted to!_

Across the classroom, Lovino could read a small analog clock. It was already 9:02, and First period would end very soon. In one minute, to be exact. _I guess I have to wait a little bit longer until I can read this thing._ Lovino eyed the sealed envelope in suspicion. _Whatever that jerk bastard Antonio wrote in here, it better be worth my time!_

"And that's the time I saved this Italian kid from a pickpocket! That mothertrucker didn't stand a chance against me! Cool, no?" blabbered Sadiq, still unaware of the actual objective of the class.

"Yes. Very cool." replied Lukas sarcastically. "Can we go now?"

The teacher took one look at the clock and panicked. "What?! It's the end of class already?! I didn't even get to tell you kids about my trip to Egypt last summer!" the Turkish man said dramatically.

"I hate to interrupt, but-" Tino was cut off by the thunderous sound of the bell.

"Haha, looks like _you_ were the one who was interrupted this time!" joked Matthias before shooting a cautious glance towards Lukas. "U-uh, buddy, maybe you shouldn't try choking me with my own tie this time…"

Fortunately for Matthias, there was simply not enough time for Lukas to land another murder attempt. The students had already begun filing out of the classroom and contributing to the already congested hallway traffic.

Lovino stood up and threw his backpack over his shoulder. _Finally, I can get out of here. Hopefully I don't have my next class with these stupid bastards._ He caught a glimpse of Antonio and Gilbert, who were chattering at an obnoxiously high volume as they left the room. Before he could exit, Antonio shot Lovino a quick wink.

The wayward curl on the top of Lovino's head shaped itself into a heart. _UGH! I'm going to kill that Spanish bastard!_ He looked back at the letter in his pocket. _And once I read this thing, I'm gonna rip it to shreds!_


	3. Condescending

Tolys was scared. But that was nothing new, especially because this year he had all of his classes with a certain Russian. _Every last one of them. I have to spend my whole day with Ivan, I think I'm gonna have a panic attack!_

He took deep breaths, remembering what his therapist said. Unfortunately, nothing seemed to work.

"Hey! Don't I look cool?" asked Feliks as he ran up to his friend. The Polish boy was wearing what _looked_ to be a normal World Academy uniform from the waist up, but instead of pants, he was wearing a skirt. "I changed right before lunch!"

"Of course you do. If you want to look like a 7th-grade prep school girl," responded Tolys absentmindedly. He leaned back against the tree, feeling the cool September breeze on his face. Brushing a lock of brown hair behind her ear, he sighed dejectedly. "Feliks, I think I need some time alone."

Feliks shoved a handful of potato chips into his mouth. "What? Oh god, don't tell me it's that crazy Russian guy again! Leave him to me, I'll teach him a lesson!" To prove his point, Feliks brought out a piece of paper and pen. He scribbled a few sentences on the paper and held it up proudly.

Tolys read the message out loud. "It says 'Don't go near Tolys or Warsaw will become your capital'? Uh..." The Lithuanian buried his head between his knees. "Thanks for trying, but I'm not sure if that will be enough to get him to leave me alone."

"Come on, it's sure to work! He'll be, like, totally scared! I can even add a few more ponies to my arsenal!" insisted Feliks. The blonde noticed a tall figure approaching them from the distance and immediately lost his bravado. "Crap," he muttered before hiding behind Tolys. "Don't let him see me, okay?"

Tolys almost rolled his eyes. _What happened to all of that talk of beating up Ivan? And now, Feliks is scared of some tall guy with a scarf and spiky hair?_ He examined the person a little more, taking an observation of the scar on their face. _Well, he is kind of scary… in his own way._

"Feliks. I know you are there." said the tall guy before extending his palm outwards. "Now pay up."

Tolys scooted to the right and whispered into Feliks's ear. "Who is he? And why are you in debt to him?!"

Feliks chuckled nervously and fidgeted with the hem of his skirt. "Tim. He's from the Netherlands, and I bought these chips from him a few hours earlier. I promised that I would pay at noon, but I thought he had already forgotten…" He looked up at Tim. "Hey, there, Dutch guy! I was wondering when you'd come!"

Tim's stiff facial expression never faltered in the slightest. "Cut the formalities. I need seven euros, and I need them now."

Tolys's eyes nearly popped out of his skull. "Feliks, you promised him _seven_ euros for a bag of chips?! Are you insane?!"

Feliks shot him a pointed glare. "Do you remember the time when Ivan dressed you up in a maid cosplay and whipped you?"

Tolys pursed his lips, knowing he couldn't necessarily deny the allegation. "Exactly. Now, I'll get this situation sorted out smoothly." finished Feliks, appearing as confident as he possibly could.

Tolys couldn't help but question his friend's negotiation abilities. Feliks wasn't necessarily the brightest bulb in the box, and he made Tolys feel more like a babysitter than a friend at times.

Feliks cleared his throat loudly, still determined to remain calm. _Or at least act like it, anyway._

"Firstly, I'd like to say that I am currently unable to procure seven euros right now-" Feliks was interrupted by an annoyed grunt from Tim.  
"So you're telling me you cannot pay?" questioned Tim, his voice bordering on furious.

Feliks scratched the back of his head and smiled anxiously. "Something along the lines of that…"

The Dutch boy narrowed his eyebrows, making him appear even more intimidating than before. "I knew I shouldn't have made that deal with you. Furthermore, if you do not find a way to pay me before the end of lunch, I will start charging interest on your debt." he explained, his tone serious and demanding.

Tolys couldn't believe what he was hearing. _Interest? It's just a bag of chips, he really must be a penny-pincher!_ He made eye contact with Feliks, who shot him a pleading look. _I don't have any money on me, either. This is bad! It's only the first day, and Feliks has already made an enemy!_ Suddenly, Tolys felt a cold hand grip his shoulder. Flinching, he turned his neck to see who it was.

"Привет, comrade Tolys. It is very nice to see you here." greeted Ivan, his signature childish smile plastered on his face.

_Could this day possibly get any worse?! I should probably try to calm myself down and act cool. But that's easier said than done._

Trying to push his skittish thoughts to the back of his mind, Tolys replied. "H-hello, Ivan. You don't need my help for anything, do you?" The brunette received a brief flashback of all of the traumatic experiences he has had with the Russian. _I remember the last time he told me he needed my help with something… that didn't end well at all._

Ivan shook his head and tightened his grip on the Lithuanian's shoulder, much to Tolys's own dismay. "I do not. I did notice you were having some of the troubles over here, and I wanted to help you."

Glancing back at his nervous Polish friend and the glowering Dutch boy, Tolys hesitantly nodded. "Well, I could use some help right now, to be honest." he admitted. _He better not ask for me to pay him back! Especially if he asks for something other than money…_

"Alright, then." Ivan turned around and motioned towards a short boy. "Raivis, would you mind giving me seven euros?" he asked, the undertone of firmness making his question sounding more like a command.

Raivis reached into his pocket, pulled out the money, and handed it to Ivan. "Here you go, sir." he mumbled, his voice shaking excessively.

Ivan gave the euros to Tim, who seemed satisfied with the transaction and left. Feliks exhaled loudly, wiping the sweat off his brow.

"Wow, you really saved me there!" exclaimed Feliks with a grateful smile.

_Leave it to Feliks to suck up to the guy who he threatened to confront minutes earlier. But I guess it's what anybody would do, so it kind of makes sense._

Ivan simply smiled again, and moved his hand further down Tolys's back. Tolys flinched as Ivan's palm grazed the multiple scars inflicted there, by none other than the Russian himself. He pulled his lips into a small frown, eager to put distance between himself and Ivan. Yet somehow, he found that he could not. He was physically capable of doing it, yes, but something was stopping him. Fear? Anxiety? Or all of the above?

Thankfully, Ivan's hand could not go any further due to an interruption. Alfred (seemingly appearing out of nowhere) ran up to the students while yelling an enthusiastic greeting.

"Yo! What's up, dudes?" The American placed his hands on his hips and smiled proudly, his grin widening once he caught sight of Tolys. "Oh, hey! I haven't seen you in forever, Liet!"

The nickname was special, reserved for only his closest friends. Those friends being Feliks and Alfred. Not even Raivis or Eduard called him that, and he had spent most of his life with them.

Ivan raised one eyebrow. "I did not know you two were acquainted with each other."

Alfred laughed exuberantly. "Of course, dude! Liet stayed at my place for a few months for the student exchange program. He was practically my mail-order bride!"

Tolys blushed profusely and looked at the ground.

Not taking very well to the comment, Ivan's expression faltered. "I see. You did not do anything to him, I hope."

It was then when Alfred noticed the purposeful placement of Ivan's hand. "I should be asking _you_ that, commie. Isn't it obvious that Liet doesn't like it when you do _that_?" asked Alfred, hinting to the touch.

"Uh, guys, I think our next class is going to start soon. We should get going." reminded Tolys in an attempt to prevent the argument from escalating any further. Alfred and Ivan never got along very well in the first place, and one more thing to fight about would most certainly push their already precarious relations over the edge.

Alfred and Ivan traded glares. "If I find out about anything non-consensual, I'm going to kick your communist ass." threatened the American, an unusually frightening gleam in his blue eyes.

Ivan laughed humorlessly. "Likewise. I cannot wait until I see you buried by your own crushing debt."

Before any other threats could be spoken, the faint echoing of the school bell graced everyone's ears. Scrambling for an opportunity to leave, Tolys snatched his backpack from the ground and stood up.

"It was nice talking to you all, but I must get going now. Goodbye!" Tolys sped off in the direction of the building with Feliks right behind.

"Come, Raivis. I do not want to be late for my next class with Tolys." said Ivan, putting emphasis on his last word.

Alfred bit back a long and colorful string of insults about to leave his mouth. "Whatever. Just know that _I'm_ still his favorite."

The Russian smiled once more. "Let us wait for the Homecoming dance next Friday. Then we shall see who his favorite really is."

┏━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┓

 _Snap._ Kiku took another picture, wondering how he hadn't run out of storage yet. _Snap._ Whatever he was witnessing was more interesting than Feliciano's ramblings about pasta, so he was determined to document it however he could. _Snap._ Alfred and Ivan were having another argument about something, an issue that Kiku didn't know (and frankly, didn't care) too much about.

"Whatever. Just know that _I'm_ still his favorite." Kiku's finger froze a few inches in front of the camera button. ' _His favorite'? So I assume they are talking about a person. A person that they both must be very fond of._ Tapping his chin pensively, the Japanese boy thought of all the potential people the two were referencing. _Alfred likes many people, both platonically and romantically, so it might be difficult to narrow it down on that end. But Ivan, on the other hand…_ Kiku squinted his dark brown eyes, searching for answers. None came up, unfortunately. However, Ivan did say one last thing before leaving.

"Let us wait for the Homecoming dance on Friday. Then we shall see who his favorite really is."

Kiku wasn't quite aware that Ivan swung that way. _Though, it does make things a lot more intriguing._

The homecoming dance was indeed the following Friday. It was rather early in Kiku's opinion, but he wasn't planning on attending anyway. _Perhaps I should reconsider. If I go, I will be able to watch this entire thing between Alfred and Ivan unfold._ He felt a small pang of guilt. _I know I am intruding on other people's business… that isn't very respectful of me. But this is just too fascinating for me to leave alone!_

Alfred mumbled something incoherent under his breath, but Kiku guessed that it was something along the lines of "commie bastard" before leaving as well.

Finally, Kiku was able to leave his hiding spot behind the row of bushes. "Phew. It was getting quite stuffy in there," he said to himself.

Another person popped up from the bush to his right. "Totally. By the way, can I borrow those pictures for my blog? This is super juicy!"

Kiku let out a frightened yelp. " _Nani_?! Who are you, what are you doing over here?!" After the initial shock dissolved, he was able to recognize who the person was.

Eduard chuckled quietly and adjusted his glasses. "You're not the only one with a hobby."

After a brief pause, Kiku spoke again.

"I'll send you the photos."


	4. Apprehensive

Alfred couldn't keep his frustrations out of his head, no matter how much he tried. The conversation he had with Ivan an hour prior had been stuck in his mind, replaying in a seemingly endless loop. He sighed and placed his trumpet in his lap, the band hall's ceiling lights reflecting on the shiny gold instrument.

"Psst! Alfred!" Gilbert cupped his hand over his mouth, with the other holding his flute. "Why do you look like you're contemplating the meaning of the universe?"

"Ha, yeah right. I'm just a little bit distracted," replied Alfred, trying to sound sure of himself. He was not.

_I'm supposed to be practicing music for the pep rally next week, but here I am. Just thinking. I don't do that very often, do I? There's always something I'm already preoccupied with._

Gilbert laughed. "A little? Mr. Edelstein looks like he's about to murder you!"

Alfred looked past Gilbert's head, only to find that his friend was right. The aristocratic, somewhat stuck-up conductor was glaring right at him, violet eyes piercing through his soul.

"I'm not scared of him! I'm the hero, after all!" declared Alfred, his voice lacking its usual cheer.

He felt a small twinge of pain on the back of his head. Turning around, he found the culprit was Matthias, who was holding his drumstick and smirking mischievously.

"Dude, what was that for?" asked Alfred.

"For being distracted during class, of course!" responded Matthias matter-of-factly.

Lukas walked up to Matthias and promptly smacked him on the forehead with his marimba mallet, making sure to use twice as much force as what Matthias used initially.  
"OW! What the hell?!" Matthias cried loudly.

"A taste of your own medicine. I hope you enjoyed it," said Lukas before disappearing into the percussion storage room.

"I hope he doesn't get out the bass drum mallet next…" Matthias glanced back in Lukas's direction warily. "That's gotta hurt big time."

Alfred shrugged. "Well, it's what you get when you mess with a percussionist!"

"Anyways, what's on your mind, Mr. Worldwide?" questioned Gilbert, inviting himself back into the conversation. Alfred cringed at the nickname. It was awarded to him after Alfred claimed he was 'friends with the whole world' his first day of Freshman year by Gilbert, and stuck ever since. That made it no less embarrassing, though.

_I don't think spilling out my guts to Gilbert is a very good idea. He'll probably just laugh at me. Also, I'm pretty sure he and Tolys hate each other, too. Not entirely sure why. Ludwig told me Gilbert used to bully him when they were in Kindergarten or something. That still seems like a pretty petty reason to start an entire rivalry lasting for years._

"Nothing." Alfred lied, wincing at how obvious the falsehood was.

"Mhmm. And I'm 6'2 with blonde hair, blue eyes, and a six-pack." Gilbert stopped himself, realizing he had just described Ludwig exactly. " _Mein Gott,_ just tell me the truth, okay?"

Alfred sighed, hoping that he was about to make the right decision. _But when have I ever made good decisions in life?_ "Fine. It's about Tolys."

As expected, Gilbert's face contorted in distaste. "Ugh, that dweeb? What about him?"

Twiddling his thumbs in his lap, Alfred felt the words get stuck at the back of his throat. _He's totally going to make fun of me. I mean, it does sound pretty lame to confess that you have a stupid schoolgirl crush to your best friend. Who can blame me?_ "I think I like him."

One of Gilbert's eyebrows shot up. "Platonically? Because I'm getting some different vibes from you."

Alfred rolled his eyes. "N-no. Not really. But the thing is, that evil Russian guy likes him too!" He ran his fingers through his hair haphazardly. "Ivan and I hate each other, dude! He's not going to let me have Tolys to myself! Also, he mentioned something about the dance next Friday… I'm scared he's gonna force _my_ Liet to go with him!"

Gilbert snickered under his breath. " _Yours_? What are you, some possessive freak? But if we're comparing, I think Ivan probably fits that description better." The Prussian glanced back at Mr. Edelstein, who was (thankfully) distracted and turned back around. "Well, all I can say is, good luck to you. If you try anything on Tolys, Ivan's gonna beat the _scheiße_ out of you."

Alfred put both of his palms in the air in a surrendering motion. "I wouldn't do anything to Tolys, honest! Forcing love on people is _not_ cool. I'm just scared that Ivan's going to hurt him… or worse." His shoulders sagged slightly. "The only way I can get Ivan to back off is if I get Tolys to come to the dance with me _willingly._ Then, maybe he'll finally see how much of a creep he really is."

Gilbert twirled his flute around in his hand (something that Mr. Edelstein explicitly stated not to do) and flashed Alfred a thumbs up. "Seems like you have your plan together. All there is left to do is just ask him, Al."

Alfred rubbed his temples. "That's the hardest part!" Deciding that he was far too preoccupied to play, he carefully placed his trumpet back in its case. "I might get rejected, and that would suck big time!" _I never really understood how people felt when they said they were nervous about something. I hardly ever get anxious, because heroes are never scared! And I'm the hero, right?_

…

_Right?_

Gilbert stood up and addressed the entire room. "Eh, you'll never know if you never try. And that, folks, is Gilbert's cheesy advice of the day. Come back tomorrow!"

A girl with brown hair and a clarinet stood up. "Gilbert, some of us are _trying_ to practice our music! Furthermore, you should know that nobody gives a crap about your useless generic advice!" she scolded.

Gilbert ignored the reprimand with a wave of his hand. "Whatever, Elizaveta. You're basically powerless without that frying pan of yours!" he said nonchalantly.

Elizaveta scowled at Gilbert before returning to her seat. "This will not be the end, Gilbert," she warned.

"Wasn't that awesome? Hold on- I didn't even need to ask that question. I already knew." Gilbert kicked one of his legs up on a chair. "I'm awesome!" he declared proudly.

"Yeah. Totally awesome, dude." responded Alfred before turning to his right. Sitting next to him was his twin brother, Matthew. "Yo, Matt. I think I need a suggestion."

The Canadian smiled knowingly, a long curl falling in front of his face. "You don't have to explain. I heard all of it."

"Oh, good. So, what should I do? I'm kind of stuck." inquired Alfred.

Matthew thought for a few seconds before replying. "Al, I think Gilbert's right this time. Honestly, there's only one thing you can do at this point. Just ask Tolys if he wants to go to Homecoming with you."

_Everyone is telling me the same thing! But if it's such a popular opinion, then maybe it's the best one._

"Fair enough. I should just send him a note or something. Then it wouldn't be as embarrassing." Alfred still wasn't as sure of himself as he usually was.

Matthew nodded. "Just do whatever you feel comfortable with. Also, don't try picking any more fights with Ivan. Hospital bills are expensive."

Alfred grinned sheepishly. "I may have already violated that rule. We didn't beat each other up, though." he added, not intending to worry his brother.

"Oh, god. It's the first day back, and you've already gotten into an argument. With Ivan Braginsky, might I add." said Matthew incredulously. "Have you ever considered that you should think before you act?"

"Come on, he was asking for it! He had his hands all over Tolys, and I just couldn't take it." defended Alfred.

"Al, you know I love you. But it should go without saying that you are a huge idiot."

┏━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┓

Feliciano didn't understand. Why was Ludwig acting so strangely? He would stutter every time he talked to Feliciano and became a blushing mess at every touch. _This never happened before. What happened?_

Somehow, after hours of thinking, Feliciano still couldn't put two and two together. That had always been his weakness. He was rather oblivious, and it was next to impossible for him to read social situations very well. _Oh, no! What if Ludwig is sick? I don't want Ludwig to die, this is horrible!_

His breath quickened, and a lump began to form in his throat. Feliciano tentatively tapped the German on the shoulder, making sure to be as gentle as possible. Ludwig flinched ever so slightly, sending tears to Feliciano's eyes. _Is he scared of me? But I'm harmless!_ "Luddy, are you sick?" Feliciano pressed the back of his hand on Ludwig's forehead to check his temperature. The gesture caused a bright red blush to spread all over the blonde's face.  
"I'm not sick, Feliciano. Why do you ask?" said Ludwig, trying not to stutter.

The Italian tilted his head at a small angle, the curl in his hair falling askew. His eyelids flickered upwards, revealing bright amber orbs that were rarely ever seen by anyone. "You're acting really weird, and I wanted to make sure you're okay. Did I offend you? I hope I didn't offend you! Please forgive me, I'll do anything!" wailed Feliciano.

Ludwig was taken aback. In this long-time friendship-or relationship- he had never once seen Feliciano open his eyes. Not even when he was reading, which Ludwig found very strange. Ludwig couldn't help but wonder why. Feliciano's eyes were things of beauty; bright and expressive. Revealing them made the once cute Italian boy look 20 times cuter. If that was even possible.

They were so perfect, almost like a doll's eyes. Ludwig couldn't help but get lost in them, the gleaming pools of sunlight and honey drawing him in.

"What are you staring at? Is there something on my face? I bet it's the pasta sauce from earlier, isn't it? I should find a napkin. Do you have a napkin?"

Ludwig chuckled quietly at Feliciano's nonsensical blabbering. " _Nein._ It's nothing."

And with that, his eyes were shut once again. "Oh, okay!" Feliciano chirped before turning back around.

Leaning against the large bass drum, Ludwig stared wistfully at the back of Feliciano's head. He had been trying to figure out his feelings for a very long time. He had spent so long telling himself that what he felt for Feliciano lacked any romantic emotion whatsoever. Yet, there was always this voice at the back of his head. The voice would whisper things, things that Ludwig was simply too afraid to admit for himself.

_You love him, don't you?_

_You love him. A lot._

_You want to spend the rest of your life with this boy, correct? Through both good times and bad._

_You want to make him laugh, see him smile,_

_Be there for him when he cries._

_Why are you trying to deny it? There's nothing wrong with love._

Ludwig ran his finger along the rough surface of the drum, a faraway look in his icy blue eyes.

His reverie was interrupted by a loud voice coming from the other side of the band hall. A voice that (unfortunately) Ludwig recognized.

"And that, folks, is Gilbert's cheesy advice of the day. Come back tomorrow!"

Ludwig rolled his eyes at his older brother's antics.

_The older brother is supposed to be the mature one._

Gilbert struck a dramatic pose with the assistance of a chair.

_But I guess life doesn't always work out that way._

Mr. Edelstein cleared his throat in a loud and exaggerated manner. "Students! I require you all to sit in your seats and maintain silence." The Austrian stepped down from his podium and lowered his voice. "We will be playing shortly. I have a new piece for you all, one that we will be playing at the pep rally." He pointed to a girl with brown hair tied with two red ribbons who was holding a stack of papers. "Michelle will pass out the music."

As soon as the teacher stopped talking, the room erupted into a series of murmurs.

"I hope I won't have to wait 20 measures of rest in this piece."

"Which key signature is it in? If it's D flat, I'm gonna quit."

"I think my tuner is broken…"

A piece of sheet music was passed to Ludwig. He scanned it eagerly.

_Seems like a pretty average piece._

Ludwig took notice of the fortissimo dynamic sign in the first measure, which Mr. Edelstein had taken the liberty of underlining and circling.

_I just have to beat the drum again. Loudly. Nothing new._

His gaze shifted to the very top of the sheet, where he noticed something was strange. Or rather, something was missing.

The piece had no name, nor did it have a composer. It was an unusual thing, which certainly did not go unnoticed by the students.

The conductor pinched the bridge of his nose, most likely developing a headache from all of the loud talking. "Yes, I am well aware that your music does not have a name or a composer. That was intentional." Ludwig caught sight of a small smile on Mr. Edelstein's face. "This piece was not formally composed. Rather, it was sent in by a student, who will remain anonymous for the time being."

Once again, everybody began whispering to each other, coming up with conspiracies as to who the person might be.

"If it helps, this student is among us right now. I will give no further information." Mr. Edelstein raised his thin baton. "Now, let us begin."

* * *

**TRANSLATIONS**

_Scheiße_ (German): Shit

 _Mein Gott_ (German): My god

 _Nein_ (German): No

**OTHER NOTES**

(These are mostly musical terms. I am currently in Band, and it has come to my attention that not everybody knows what these things are.)

Piece: A written musical/artistic creation or composition

Marimba: Basically a wooden xylophone. They make beautiful music, by the way.

Key signature: A collection of every accidental (sharps, flats, naturals) found in a musical scale. Speaking from experience, D flat is a particularly difficult key signature to play in.

Dynamics: The varying levels of volume of sound in different parts of a musical performance.

Fortissimo: A dynamic indicating the musician to play very loudly.

I would also like to add one more thing. Thank you for reading this story. It means a lot to me, so I wanted to express my gratitude. It would be greatly appreciated if you would give kudos to this work if you enjoyed it, too. (I'm not forcing you to do anything, though. I get it, self-promotion is obnoxious. So I'll try to keep it to a minimum.)


	5. That's the Earth

_Who does Alfred think he is? Acting like he and Tolys are the best of friends. I know for a fact that he is much too self-absorbed to even qualify for a healthy relationship. Especially with someone as perfect as Tolys._

Ivan ran his fingers along the cello's smooth surface. _Alfred plays the trumpet, doesn't he? What a joke. Blowing air through a piece of metal, that's all they are capable of._ He looked down at his cello, as beautiful and dignified as ever. _Being a part of the Orchestra actually requires talent and dedication. It pays off, too. The music we make is elegant and touching. It_ _ **earns**_ _your attention, captivating the audience effortlessly with every stroke of the bow. What do those uncultured Band people do? Play some loud, obnoxious, peppy, garbage that simply_ _ **demands**_ _your attention._

_Loud and obnoxious._

_The perfect way to describe Alfred, is it now?_

Ivan chuckled quietly under his breath, imagining himself smacking Alfred repeatedly with a cello. _Not_ _ **my**_ _cello, of course. Alfred isn't even worthy of coming near it._

His violet eyes fixated on the Chinese boy sitting in the row in front of him. Yao Wang, who was actually a senior but could easily pass off as a freshman. A freshman _girl._ Yao had a strong penchant for Hello Kitty and other endearing things, oddly enough. Ivan had actually taken a liking to the smaller boy ever since his first day at World Academy, and took it upon himself to make that well-known. Anybody who came within 2 feet of Yao would be instantly met by Ivan's cold and terrifying glare. After noticing this, Yao confronted his Russian stalker. A day that Ivan could never forget. _Even if I wanted to. But I am not one to try to hide from my own memories. That is what weak people do._

…

_Ivan stared at the note taped to the inside of his locker door. The paper was a pale shade of pink, with little Hello Kitty decals on the margins. Cute. It was cute. There was something Ivan couldn't quite understand, though. It was obvious that the letter was from Yao. Who else would have Hello Kitty themed stationery? But that begs the question:_

_What was the motive behind it?_

_Ivan peeled the letter off of his locker and unfolded it attentively. It had a very brief statement scribbled on it. 'Meet me in the courtyard after school. We need to talk.'_

_What was there to talk about? Nevertheless, Ivan was still curious. So he honored Yao's request._

_At 4:00 PM, sharp, he was there. Not a single minute earlier or later. That was just the kind of person he was. Much to his amusement, Yao was already sitting at the base of the fountain in the middle of the courtyard, looking slightly agitated._

" _Ivan. You're here." Even though Yao had tried to maintain an intimidating air, Ivan knew that he couldn't quite take him seriously. The Chinese boy was too petite and adorable to inflict fear on Ivan._

_The Russian nodded and sat next to him. He noticed that Yao flinched slightly and shifted away. "Hello. Is there anything you need, Yao-yao?" Another nickname. Ivan found that it fit his little China doll perfectly._

" _Y-yes. I have to ask something of you." Yao crossed his arms over his chest and locked eye contact. "Leave me alone."_

_Three words. Three words that would normally hurt someone, especially someone who had as much desire for Yao as Ivan did. But they didn't hurt Ivan, naturally. He had taken far, far, worse. From his enemies, from his friends. From the people who were_ _**supposed** _ _to be his friends. Ivan giggled childishly. "Oh, Yao-yao. You have yet to understand." Yao opened his mouth to protest, but was interrupted. "I do not have a reason to leave you alone."_

_Yao couldn't miss the cold, forceful, undertone in Ivan's last statement. Nobody could. Yao gulped and clenched his fists in an attempt to get them to stop shaking. "You will, Ivan. Because I told you too."_

_To Yao's credit, Ivan was rather impressed by this unusual show of bravery. Anybody else would have not even dared to let words like those escape their mouth, but of course, Yao was different. Determined to make his point, Ivan placed his hand on Yao's thigh. "And how is that going to make any sort of difference? Tell me."_

_Yao narrowed his eyebrows. "This is getting ridiculous, aru! Every time I try to talk to anyone, you always come up behind me and make them leave! Everybody avoids me now, and it's your fault!" He pointed his finger at Ivan accusingly. "I can't even lead a normal life anymore! Why can't you just find someone else to be your little 'china doll'?"_

_And that was when Ivan noticed the tears. They were dripping from Yao's eyes, falling into his lap._

_He felt his breathing hitch. Ivan had seen people cry multiple times before, knowing full well that it was his own fault. But seeing Yao's dark brown eyes rimmed with tears… it was too much._

_Ivan removed his hand from Yao's thigh and stood up. "Okay." he said simply before walking away._

…

That afternoon was certainly an eventful one. Ever since the confrontation, Ivan had never even spoken to Yao. He was a man of his word if anything at all. Over the course of a year, Ivan's infatuation with Yao faded out. Slowly, but surely.

Yao was still as cute as ever. Long hair, smaller stature, brown eyes.

_Yao is cute. But Tolys is beautiful._

"Big brother." Ivan recognized that voice. The voice belonging to the only person that could even come close to unnerve him.

Ivan's younger sister had a creepy, manic, grin, and a frightening aura. Standing behind her was her older sister, Katyusha. "Natalya… I think you should leave him alone for now.." stuttered Katyusha.

Natalya ignored the suggestion without a thought. "Nonsense. I promised big brother that I would stay with him forever, and that is what I will do." She rested her violin on its case and grabbed her phone. "I noticed you were spending an awful lot of time around that Tolys guy. So, I did you a favor and broke all of his fingers when I saw him in the hallway earlier."

Ivan's eyes nearly popped out of his skull. _What?! Why would she do that to Tolys? If it was anyone else, I would not care. But this is just unacceptable._ "Natalya, I think it would be a good idea to see a physiatrist. You cannot go around and break peoples' fingers like that."

The Belarusian girl laughed darkly and leaned closer to Ivan. "Big brother, I do not think you understand. This boy was getting in the way between us, and I will not stand for that."

Katyusha mumbled an incoherent string of pleas in Ukrainian, desperately wanting her younger sister to leave it alone. The one thing that Natalya refused to do.

Finally, Ivan decided that he had enough. His piercing gaze bore into Natalya's, matching her intensity. "Natalya, I do not think you know exactly what you are getting yourself into. I am your older brother. We are siblings. Anything more than that would be wrong." He noticed Natalya shift slightly under his stare. "I will say this once, and only once. Do not take your frustrations out on Tolys. He is-" Ivan paused briefly, then continued to speak. "He should not be a target for your jealousy."

Natalya bit her lip and clenched her jaw tightly. She shot Ivan a look that screamed 'this isn't over yet' before returning to her seat.

Katyusha exhaled in relief. "I'm glad you finally got things sorted out with her. She was really starting to scare me…" She let out a small laugh. "But that's nothing personal. She scares everybody."

The statement held true. There was something Natalya had- some sort of air of superiority that made everybody cower before her. Nobody dared to question her, they were just too scared.

 _I can't blame them. Even I get nervous around her, too._ Ivan shuddered. _That is definitely not a good thing._

The noisy room quieted down as the conductor stepped up to the podium. Her name was Mrs. Rutherford, and she came off as a rather average woman. Her personality was forgettable and her looks were average, but she was an _excellent_ conductor.

Strangely enough, Mrs. Rutherford had only just become the string orchestra conductor recently. Their former teacher was Mr. Edelstein, who had transferred to the band department at the end of the year before. The students were still sour about the change, with their animosity being directed at the band students once again. Ivan liked to assume that the band was too disorganized and rowdy to be under the supervision of a laid back teacher, resulting in Mr. Edelstein taking charge instead. It was an amusing theory, but still a theory nonetheless.

"I assume you have all finished tuning in my absence." Mrs. Rutherford scanned the room, looking for any evidence that would show otherwise. "So, we can begin. Get out _Reverie._ "

The mood in the room seemed to drop. _Reverie_ was a piece emailed to the students during the summer and was immediately met with negative feedback. The music was deemed 'too boring' by most and lacked a certain sense of excitement and direction.

More than anyone, Ivan dreaded playing _Reverie_ the most. His cello part had hardly any substance; it felt so slow and lethargic.

Ignoring the disappointed groans from the students, Mrs. Rutherford got out her own score. Ivan half-expected her to launch into a spiel on how 'all classical music should be appreciated, and you're playing this whether you like it or not'.

Averting expectations, the conductor took one look at the score and tossed it on the ground. "Change of plans. We're putting this piece on hold, for now."

_On hold? We have our first concert next week, and she's just going to kick this to the curb? I know the piece is boring as hell, but we can't prepare something else on such short notice._

A girl with a pink flower in her black hair raised her hand. "Mrs. Rutherford, what are we going to play for our concert, then?"

Mrs. Rutherford smiled and picked up a piece of paper from the music stand next to her. "Mr. Edelstein proposed that we do a full orchestra concert for our first event of the year, but I originally declined. Now, I am beginning to reconsider." She looked at the _Reverie_ score with disinterest. "This is a beautiful piece, though I don't think it is optimal for this concert." The teacher grabbed another stack of papers from her desk. "I had made copies of this music just in case, and it looks like I will be putting it to use. For this piece, we will be collaborating with the band department."

A few minutes later, all of the sheet music had been passed out. Ivan stared at his part, noticing the glaring absence of a title and composer name. _Odd._

Mrs. Rutherford held up her hand, nonverbally silencing all of the questions about the new music. "If you have any inquiries about this piece, ask Mr. Edelstein, because I will not answer. Maru-" She cut herself off. "This piece is rather simple for our level, so sight-reading it shouldn't be too difficult." She took a quick look at her watch. "I'll give you a few minutes to get familiar with it. Then we will play."

Ivan was still confused. The conductor _obviously_ knew what the song was actually called; she had almost even said it out loud. _Why would she want to hide it?_ He decided to ignore those queries, for the time being, instead choosing to focus on the piece itself.

_She's right. This is very simple, I bet I could play this in my sleep._

Mrs. Rutherford clapped loudly, signaling for everybody's attention. She turned on the metronome and set it to 82 beats per minute. A relatively slow speed, especially for the level of skill that this particular class was at. Yet, nobody bothered to question it, assuming that the conductor knew what was best.

She raised her baton in the air and began waving it purposefully.

"Let us begin."

┏━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┓

The sound of a warm and peppy melody greeted Feliciano's ears. A melody that he was awfully familiar with.

Because he was the one that wrote it. He had begun composing it about a year ago, on a warm August evening. Sitting at the piano, banging random keys aimlessly. Suddenly, those random keys formed into music. It sounded vaguely like a march, but not quite. He had been so eager to write down the notes, and add more and more to the existing ones.

Soon, it became a full-blown piano piece. Lovino noticed he had been spending a lot of time around the piano, and questioned him about it. Feliciano showed him the music, and for one in his life, Lovino actually seemed intrigued. He brought out his alto saxophone immediately, somewhat confusing Feliciano. ' _Well? Play, bastard!'_ Not without slight hesitation, Feliciano began to play the song he had written. Lovino had joined him on the saxophone, stumbling only a little bit on the notes he didn't quite know.

It was one of the best experiences Feliciano had with his older brother in his lifetime. Finally getting along and setting aside their differences, only focusing on the music in front of them.

When Freshman year started, Feliciano decided to join the band.

The tenor saxophone was practically his identity for the entire year. Granted, he wasn't very good at playing. But when he was at home, when he was _supposed_ to be practicing the music he had been assigned in school, he would only play one song. _His_ song. The teachers had deemed him as a lost cause, and he seemed okay with it.

A month went by. Kiku had come over to Feliciano's house for a school project, and came across the sheet music for his song. When asked about it, Feliciano said nothing. Instead, he played. He wasn't necessarily very good at the piano, either. But composing, on the other hand… Kiku saw potential in that. The Japanese boy had offered to write lyrics for the song, and Feliciano gratefully agreed. When finished, Kiku revealed the final lyrics to Feliciano. '

The pieces began with the lyrics 'Marukaite Chikyuu', which according to Kiku, roughly translated to 'Draw a circle, that's the earth.' Feliciano ended up naming the song accordingly.

He had never shown the piece to anybody else. Not even Ludwig.

Until this year, that is. Out of pure curiosity, he decided to show the piece to Mr. Edelstein, without even considering the fact that the band conductor would actually take a liking to it. The Austrian decided to take it upon himself to write individual parts for each section, including the string ones.

As he and the rest of the band played the song, Feliciano couldn't help but hear the lyrics in his head.

_Marukaite Chikyuu,_

_Marukaite Chikyuu,_

_Marukaite Chikyuu,_

_Boku Hetalia!_

_Marukaite Chikyuu,_

_Jitto mite chikyuu,_

_Hyotto shite chikyuu,_

_Boku Hetalia!_

They were all in Japanese, of course. Kiku had translated the lyrics for him (into both Italian and English), but Feliciano still preferred to sing the original ones.

In his head, anyways.

His favorite part about the piece was that every single part seemed to fit together perfectly; blending into one confident, musical, voice. That was the best part of music, or at least in his opinion anyway. Music is all about joining different tones together, into one cohesive piece.

Through the high-pitched flutes, the blaring trumpets, and the deep tubas, Feliciano could hear one thing very clearly.

The bass drum.

Beating deep and loud, almost echoing the sounds of his own heart.

 _Ludwig._ Tall, blonde, attractive. But there was so much more to him than what meets the eye. He was caring and considerate, treating Feliciano like delicate glass rather despite his tough exterior. With every strike Ludwig made with his mallet to the drum, Feliciano's heartbeat quickened. It was growing difficult to keep his attention on the music stand in front of him.

The truth was, Feliciano didn't even need the sheet music. He knew the entire piece by memory, including the lyrics.

A percussion solo was coming up in a few measures. Lukas pulled it off well, his strokes on the xylophone displaying perfect accuracy and staccato. It was accompanied by snare drum and hi-hat sounds, but it was obvious what the main focus was supposed to be.

For at least a few measures, Feliciano could take a break. He knew exactly when he was supposed to play, anyway, so what was the harm?

He glanced around the band hall. A cheesy inspirational poster caught his eye.

_Music is stronger than any glue; able to bring the entire world together._

That couldn't be more right.

Saying that the students of World Academy were different would be an understatement. They all came from different nations across the globe. _Europe, Asia, the Americas. Even that one guy from Australia._ Different cultures, beliefs, personalities. All contrasting each other in any way possible.

_Music._

_It's stronger than any glue._

Feliciano took a long look at the people sitting around him. Typically, they would all be bickering about something or the other. But they were so focused on the music at the moment to even shoot something as simple as a small glare.

_Able to bring the whole world together._

* * *

NOTES:

Mrs. Rutherford is an original character. You would assume that Austria would be the Orchestra conductor, but for the sake of this particular plot, he isn't.

 _Marukaite Chikyuu_ is obviously the outro song. It seemingly represents how the entire world can be brought together and cooperate. It does not explicitly state anything about music in itself, but that is just how I interpret it.

A Snare Drum is a percussion instrument that produces a crisp staccato sound when hit.

A hi-hat is a combination of two suspended cymbals and a pedal, and is mounted on a metal stand.

I based the arrangement of the _Marukaite Chikyuu_ full band piece on the video on YouTube titled "The Hetalia Band - Marukaite Chikyuu." I recommend that you watch it, the story might be easier to understand. watch?v=F9sFdQlGpz

All of the details in the first half of the story from Ivan's perspective may or may not actually be accurate. I'm not in an orchestra, nor have I ever played a string instrument, so there might be some inconsistencies in detail you might catch there if you're familiar with the orchestra.

Reverie is an actual orchestral piece. By no means am I trying to diminish its quality, but I was informed by someone who had actually played it before that it was somewhat boring. But please keep in mind that every piece of music requires talent and hard work to compose, and this applies to _Reverie_ as well.


	6. Assault and Battery

A numbing pain pulsed through Tolys's fingertips. If you could even call them that, anymore. His fingers were crooked, bending in ways that shouldn't even be possible. All thanks to Natalya. A beautiful girl, with icy blonde hair and indigo eyes. That threatening face she always made; brow furrowed, mouth set in a hard line, glare piercing. It seemed to make her even more attractive. Tolys had met her when he was visiting Ivan's house one day. He was in the kitchen, making tea for the Russian like some kind of servant.

She waltzed right in and pressed a dagger to his neck.

Even the overwhelming fear of the moment couldn't distract him from her beauty. While she was threatening him, all Tolys could pay attention to were her lips. He knew it would never happen. But he had never assumed she would go so far as to _break_ his _fingers_ out of pure contempt! Alas, there he was. Slumped over in the waiting room outside the nurse's office, with nothing but a bag of ice and bruised dignity.

_Why do I always get myself into these situations? I didn't even do anything this time, Natalya just broke my fingers the moment she saw me! God, is she wasn't a girl, I would have beaten her up._

It's not like Tolys was weak. In fact, he was anything but that. When he was around 13 years old, he and Feliks had kicked Gilbert's ass.

Tolys smirked to himself. _He definitely deserved that one. Gilbert was and still is a giant douchebag._ Though, for some odd reason, he couldn't even bring himself to mutter a single word of resistance to Natalya. _Maybe because Natalya isn't as big of a douchebag?_ This notion was rejected as Tolys remembered how the Belarusian girl nearly suffocated him to death when she saw him sitting in Ivan's lap.

His face burned bright red as he remembered the experience. _That wasn't my fault, either! I was trying to clean Ivan's living room, and he just pulled me onto him._ Tolys could still feel the ghost of Ivan's authoritative touch on his back, over all of the knobbled, linear, scars from so long ago. _I guess that makes two people that I can't defy._ He remembered Ivan's other sister, the one from Ukraine. _Well, I suppose she's the only normal one out of the bunch. Though sometimes I wonder if she got plastic surgery for her breasts._

"Excuse me?" Tolys glanced up from the floor, meeting eye contact with the nurse. "Please come in."

Over the rims of her thick-framed glasses, the nurse examined Tolys's fingers. She pursed her lips and scribbled something down on her clipboard. "Mr. Laurinaitis, I have to ask, how did this happen?"

Tolys chuckled nervously. After all, this was a relatively serious injury in comparison to the paper cuts and headaches that the nurse was used to dealing with. "Uh, somebody accidentally dropped a weight on my hand in P.E. class." he lied, not wanting to get Natalya in trouble.

The nurse raised one eyebrow skeptically. "Really?" Tolys nodded, hoping his facial expression didn't give it away. She clicked her pen once more. "Alright, then. Apologies, but there's not much I can do here. But," The nurse grabbed a smaller slip of paper from her desk, signed it, and handed it to Tolys. "That's for you. I recommend you go pay a visit to the hospital." She eyed the half-melted bag of ice sitting on top of his hand. "I'm sure ice won't do you any good."

Hesitantly, Tolys nodded. He wasn't very enthusiastic about the idea of skipping his last few classes. It was the first day of school, for crying out loud! But when he felt another stab of pain in his hand, he decided against opposing.

"By any chance, do you have the time?" asked Tolys, halfway through the door.

The nurse took one look at her watch. "3:40. Day's almost over already, isn't that convenient?"

Tolys exhaled in relief, with his short-lived calmness immediately replaced by panic as he remembered that he had already missed his last 2 classes while waiting.

He nervously twisted a strand of brown hair that managed to fall in front of his face. _I know I have an excuse, but I feel guilty, somehow._ Tolys tightened his hold on the permission slip with his uninjured hand, causing it to crinkle slightly at the edges.

Once he reached the student parking lot, something dawned on him. _I don't have a ride._ Tolys was 17, and hadn't even thought about getting his license yet. He was too swamped by work and chores for other people. The brunette glanced around the parking lot in desperation as students trickled out, frantically wondering what else he could do. His hand was broken, so he couldn't ride his bike home as he had initially planned. Walking didn't seem like the most practical option, either. But at this point, it appeared that it would be the only option.

"Tolys?" _Ivan. I really don't have the guts to deal with him right now, maybe he'll take some mercy on me._

Tolys turned around to meet Ivan's gaze. "H-hello, again." he managed to stutter, internally pleading for his life.

Ivan looked down at Tolys's broken fingers, eyes widening in shock. "So, what she said was true." he muttered to himself quietly.

 _What is he talking about?_ _ **Who**_ _is he talking about?_ Tolys thought for a moment, then came back empty. "May I ask, who is she?"

"Natalya… she did this to you, didn't she?"

Tolys nodded grimly in confirmation. He didn't want to throw Natalya under the bus, but it looked like Ivan already knew anyway. _No point in lying, now._

"I see. I will make it up to you." Ivan pointed to the silver Lexus in the far corner of the parking lot. "Do you see that? That will be your ride home."

Despite his wariness of Ivan, Tolys was still incredibly grateful for the gesture. But he couldn't help but wonder. "That is your car?"

Ivan shook his head. " _Нет_ , it belongs to my older sister. She isn't very good at driving though, so I'm normally the one behind the wheel."

As if on cue, Katyusha's figure could be seen running towards them from the school's exit. "Ivan! I'm so sorry I was late!" she cried out loud.

Tolys's shoulders relaxed. _I don't have to be alone with him. That has to count for something._

Katyusha noticed Tolys and smiled. " _Здравствуйте_ , Tolys! How wonderful it is to see you here!"

Tolys tried to return her enthusiasm but failed miserably.

The Ukrainian girl looked at the brunette's mangled hand and put two and two together. "Oh no, how terrible! I heard Natalya did this, and I beg that you forgive her. She can be a little unhinged at times…" Tears began bubbling up in her eyes. "This is all my fault! I should have tried to teach her better!" Before Katyusha could start weeping uncontrollably, Ivan interjected.

"I think we should go, now." offered the Russian.

Tolys raised one eyebrow. "What about Natalya?" After seeing Ivan's facial expression darken, he mentally scolded himself. _Crap! Natalya is still Ivan's little sister, how could I forget?!_

"She can walk. Our house is not too far from here."

Tolys knew for a fact that this was false. He had been to Ivan's house on multiple different occasions (none of which were very pleasant), and it was a pretty far way off. Still, he said nothing and nodded his head.

┏━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┓

Whatever Alfred was looking at, he certainly didn't like it.

_He's getting into a car. With that communist bastard. His sister is there too, so at least they aren't alone, but still!_

Through the fingerprinted glass of the window, Alfred realized Tolys's fingers were bent unusually. _They're broken! Poor Liet, I bet the Russian did this to him! And now, he's going to get kidnapped!_

Alfred began devising a plan in his head to save his Lithuanian friend, because he's the hero, right?

"Honestly, Alfred, I don't know how many more times I'm going to have to say this. Tolys isn't going to be kidnapped," said Arthur, exasperated with the American's antics.

Alfred waved off the comment. "No way! Whatever intentions Ivan has with Liet… they can't be good ones." He glanced out the window again, only to find that the Lexus had already left the school grounds. "Shit. Now he's gone. Thanks a lot, Sherlock!"

Arthur smacked his palm on his forehead. "Just because I'm British doesn't mean I'm bloody Sherlock! Besides, I'm pretty sure whatever happened to Tolys wasn't Ivan's fault."

Now Alfred was intrigued. He closed the window's blinds in one swift movement and turned around to face Arthur. "Then whose fault is it?"

Arthur scratched the back of his neck and bit his lip. "From what I remember, his sister went up to him in the hallway before 6th period and broke four of the fingers on his left hand."

Alfred's cerulean eyes widened in surprise. "What?! Katyusha? You're kidding, she would never hurt a fly!"

Arthur sighed and rolled his eyes. "No, you moron. The younger one. I think her name is Natalie or something." He drummed his fingers against the wooden desk he was sitting behind.

Alfred began pacing back and forth through the classroom, footsteps echoing through the empty space. Technically they weren't even supposed to be in classrooms after school hours without permission. But this particular classroom was tucked away in the East Wing of World Academy; one of the most deserted sections of the building. "Natalya," he corrected. "Her name is Natalya. I think I was in the same History class as her last year. She was _super_ obsessed with marrying her older brother." Alfred made a face. "Disgusting. Like, first of all, they're _siblings._ Second of all, what does she see in Ivan anyways? He's just a freak."

The Brit shrugged and leaned back in his chair. "I think you should just let this one go, Alfred. It's quite ridiculous, actually." He drew his lips in a thin smirk. "It's almost as if you go looking for trouble, just so you can call yourself that stupid name of yours." Arthur rubbed his chin mockingly. "Ah, right, 'the hero.' Childish."

Alfred shot Arthur a pointed glare and crossed his arms over his chest. "Say whatever you want, but heroes are the lifeline of our society!" He pulled the blinds open again and pointed at the old woman crossing the street outside. "See that lady? She could get jumped at any moment! Somebody has to save her, and that's what heroes are for!"

Arthur took Alfred's little rant with a grain of salt. "Whatever you say. But it's almost four and I want to go home." He got up from the seat and stretched. "I'll be off."

"Hey! Wait! Why did you even come in the first place if you didn't want to help me?"

Arthur glanced back at the American with disinterest. "Oh. Right. I just wanted to avoid frogface. He always comes by my locker at 3:50 sharp with a red rose to say some more stupid romantic nonsense."

 _Well, that's Francis for you._ Alfred was still disappointed that Arthur didn't actually have any motivation to help him with his little love triangle. _Eh. He probably doesn't have very good romance advice anyway._

┏━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┓

Lovino glanced around the hallway impatiently. Feliciano was nowhere to be seen. It was nothing out of the ordinary, though. _I bet he's spending more time with that stupid potato-eater again. Kraut-breath's influence on him is growing too much! I swear, if I come home and see Feli drinking beer, I'm gonna smash his head in with a rock!_

He wasn't very hesitant to leave the building. _Why should I stay here and wait for my stupid brother in the first place? Potato bastard's older brother is probably just going to give them all a ride anyways._

Lovino arrived at his house in about 15 minutes. He was eager to run upstairs, dash into his room, slam the door shut, and crawl into bed. Until he caught sight of a certain piece of sheet music lying near the piano.

 _I still can't believe the stuck-up Austrian conductor actually accepted this music._ Pleasant memories of playing _Marukaite Chikyuu_ on his saxophone with Feliciano filled his brain, and for once, he wasn't reluctant to shut them out.

In class, he had to pretend that he was just seeing the piece for the first time like everybody else to not attract suspicion. Feliciano explicitly requested for Mr. Edelstein to keep the author of the song anonymous. Which he did, of course.

Staring at his alto saxophone's case on the ground, Lovino couldn't help but compare himself to his younger brother. _He was always better at drawing. Better at making friends. Better at_ _ **keeping**_ _friends._ Lovino was reminded of all of his interactions with Antonio and winced. _He's probably better at romance, too. Even if he has a terrible taste in men._

_And now, he's a goddamn composer. Even if nobody knows about it yet, they're bound to find out eventually._

Sighing dejectedly, Lovino brought out his sheet music. Like his brother, he really didn't need it. Mr. Edelstein insisted that he practice with it, though.

The Italian switched on the metronome and set it to 82 beats per minute. _Kind of slow. But that's exactly the same speed as when Feliciano used to play it._

The first few notes of the song flowed perfectly, low and smooth. As he played, his mind wandered. _What the hell does 'Marukaite Chikyuu' even mean? Feliciano said it's in Japanese, but I never really cared enough to ask somebody to translate it for me._

_Maybe that's the problem._

_Maybe… I should care._

Lovino finished practicing about an hour later. There was nothing else he really had to do. The teachers had mercifully not assigned them with homework on the first day.

His hazel-green eyes darted to the letter he had shoved into his backpack. _I almost forgot about that. Might as well take a look. Who knows, maybe Antonio actually has something interesting to say._

So he read the note.

Although he didn't want to admit it, that supposedly insignificant letter was one of the best ones he had ever read in his life. The way Antonio wrote- Lovino could practically hear his voice out loud.

The icing on top was actually the question at the bottom of the paper.

' _Do you want to go to homecoming with me?'_

* * *

**NOTES:**

_Нет_ (Russian): No

 _Здравствуйте_ (Ukrainian): Hello

A Metronome is a device that produces an audible click at a regular interval or speed, measured in beats per minute. It's used to maintain a consistent beat when practicing music.

This chapter was not meant as a personal attack against school nurses. Just based on my experiences, I can't really fathom what else a school nurse would do if a student walked in with four broken fingers besides offering them ice.

Once again, thank you for reading.


	7. Confrontational

_Blank. The top of the sheet is completely blank. The rest of the song looks fine, but there's one glaring inconsistency. An inconsistency that I've ironically found in practically everybody's paper._

_Katyusha's music doesn't have a name. Neither does Natalya's._

There was no denying that the conductor was trying to hide something about this particular piece of music. Although it was rather strange, Ivan was going to ignore it for the time being.

The metronome was clicking away, running for a little bit in order for Ivan to get used to the beat. _82\. So slow. It's obvious that Mrs. Rutherford didn't choose this piece herself._

_**Click. Click. Click. Click.** _

_**Snap. Snap. Snap. Snap.**_ _Like Tolys's fingers. Snapping like twigs, bent in ways that shouldn't even be possible._ Ivan's mouth twisted into an ugly scowl. _Natalya will not get away with this. I am not going to put up with her scheming for much longer._

As he dragged his bow across the cello's delicate strings, he thought of all the pain Tolys must have been going through. _All alone. But haven't I caused him pain before, too?_

_**Lash after lash. Whip after whip.** _

_Those scars on his back- didn't I inflict them upon him? How can I be angry with Natalya if I have done the same? Or even worse?_

Ivan bit the inside of his cheek. _No. Only I can do such things to him. Not Natalya. He is mine. Not hers, and_ _ **definitely**_ _not Alfred's._ His expression soured at the thought of the obnoxious American. _I will show him._

_He cannot be there for his precious "Liet" every waking moment of the day. He cannot be Tolys's little hero. I will show him that._

Ivan recalled what he had said in the field earlier that day.

' _Let us wait for the Homecoming dance next Friday. Then we shall see who his favorite really is.'_

_Yes, we shall. I will make Tolys want me. I will make him want me to the point where he doesn't even know what the word means anymore. To the point where he doesn't even have to give the decision a second thought._

_But for that to work, he cannot be scared of me. That is easier said than done. He cowers at my very touch, he is probably scared out of his mind._

Ivan thought back to all of the things he had done to Tolys over the years. All of the terrible, cruel, ruthless, things he had done.

_There is no way to take back the actions of the past. The only thing I can do is apologize._

He let out a small exhale. _I don't believe I've ever even tried that before. Whenever I talk to him- he looks like a leaf in the wind. Quivering uncontrollably, wilting away at the slightest contact. I don't want it to be that way anymore._

The door opening with a small _creak._ "Big brother. Kat said you wanted to speak to me."

Ivan didn't even have to turn around to see who it was. Strangely enough, he never remembered requesting such a thing.

_Katyusha. Always trying to be the mediator. She should not interfere in this one, though. Bad choice._

Ivan set his bow down on the small table beside him, still not letting go of his cello. "Yes, I do." He took a deep breath. "Have a seat."

Wordlessly, Natalya obeyed. He didn't have to tell her twice. She would follow her older brother to the end of the world if she asked him to. And even if he didn't ask, she would always be there. Right behind him, whether he liked it or not.

The metronome was still on, its sound constant and unwavering.

_**Click. Click. Click. Click.** _

_**Snap. Snap. Snap. Snap.** _

_**Lash. Lash. Whip. Whip.** _

4/4 time. Personally, Ivan didn't care much for the time signature. He preferred 3/3; waltzes were so dignified and graceful. _Now is not the time for that. I have to be tough, even if Natalya can scare the living hell out of me sometimes._

Natalya's dark indigo eyes locked in with his. "I presume this is about Tolys."

 _Smart girl._ Ivan nodded slowly, still not quite ready to cut to the chase. " _Да_. I want to know the real reason you did that to him."

_**Snap. Snap. Snap. Snap.** _

Natalya's gaze flickered from Ivan's face to the ground, then back again. "I did what I had to." Her voice lacked any sort of remorse; devoid of all of the guilt and emotion that came with being human.

_**SNAP. SNAP. SNAP. SNAP.** _

Ivan felt his temper boil. _Does she not know any limits? How cruel can she be?_ He swallowed the lump in his throat.

_I wonder who she gets that from._

"Would you mind elaborating on that? Why exactly did you have to break four of his fingers?" Ivan tried to keep his voice unwavering and hard, but found it very difficult to do so.

Natalya clenched her jaw tighter. "He was coming between us, big brother." She crossed her ankles, polished black high heels making contact with the floor. "I was just giving him a warning."

 _A warning?! If that was just a warning, what more is she capable of?_ Ivan imagined all of the possible things that could happen to Tolys, each one being ten times worse than the last. "Natalya. I have said this before. I thought we both agreed that I would never say it again. But it appears as though I must." Ivan pulled his lips into a childlike, ominous, smile; one that had scared so many people away.

Away from him.

Away from the people he loved.

"I love you. You are my little sister, Natalya. We are _family._ " He made sure to put extra enunciation on the last word, drawing it out a touch longer than what was necessary. "I will not marry you. You must find love somewhere else. Anywhere else but here." Before Natalya could interrupt, Ivan continued. "But if I catch you doing _anything_ to the people _I_ love ever again, well…" Ivan reached into his pocket, bringing out a large metal pipe, his frightening smile widening into a manic grin. "I cannot promise that I won't hesitate to hurt you."

For all of the 16 years Ivan had lived with Natalya, he had never seen her scared. Not when a wild dog started chasing her in the alleyway, not even when a group of robbers had broken into their house. But something about the way Ivan spoke pushed her to the breaking point. She opened her mouth, revealing rows of straight teeth. "Big brother…" Natalya fixed her nervous stare on the metal pipe. Ivan felt his chest tighten with guilt. "I…" She trailed off. Silent tears began spilling down her face, tears that she had been holding in throughout her entire lifetime. "I will go, now." Natalya got up and rushed out of the room, footsteps loud and quick.

_**Snap. Snap. Snap. Snap.** _

Ivan felt as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He had finally struck a nerve with Natalya. However, that didn't change the fact that she was still his sister. He couldn't help but feel bad for her. Ivan curled his fist into a tight ball, knuckles turning white from the pressure. _She did what she had to. Now, I am simply doing what I have to._

┏━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┓

His left hand was a mess of white. Bandages wrapped tight around each finger. _Thumb, index, middle, ring._ Only his pinky was spared, though it didn't have much use alone.

Tolys never liked the hospital. It was a dreary place. Stories began for some, ended for others. He could hardly remember the last time he came. About a year ago, after the maid cosplay incident. The back of his shirt was soaked in blood, a wet and dripping mess of crimson. Tolys couldn't focus on anything else but the sting of the wounds, deep and very much real. He smiled sadly to himself. _Ivan took me to the hospital himself, that day. And now he has taken me again._ A dark chuckle escaped his mouth. _What a funny coincidence._

But what wasn't funny was the dire situation he was currently in. Tolys had no way home from the hospital. His pockets were empty, and his phone remained in his backpack, which was tucked safely away in his locker.

Tolys leaned back on the hard, metal, bench. _I'll just ask the next person who comes by if I could borrow their cell phone. Not too hard, right?_

A pit in his stomach formed as he came to a realization. _I have nobody to call. I don't want to bother Ivan, and Eduard will most likely be busy. Raivis's phone has been broken for as long as I can remember, so that's not an option either._

Tolys twisted the ends of his hair anxiously. _I don't even know how to get from here to my house._ The sun was about to set, the city mere minutes away from being enveloped in complete darkness.

Tolys stared out into the mostly deserted parking lot, thinking that all hope was lost.

That was until he caught sight of a bright red Chrysler. One that was so familiar. _I swear I've seen it before. Somewhere around the academy._

He looked closer, green eyes squinting. Sitting in the passenger's seat was a boy with golden blonde hair and blue eyes. _Alfred?_

The car pulled up to where Tolys was sitting, and it's window rolled down.

"Yo, Liet! I came to save you from the commie!" Alfred glanced around, seeing no signs of the Russian. "Oh," he said, his resolve faltering. "Anyways, hop in, dude!"

Tolys looked past Alfred, noticing that Arthur was driving. "Alfred, are you sure about this?" he asked.

The American nodded enthusiastically. "Of course!"

Tolys smiled appreciatively, a smile that unintentionally made Alfred blush. "Thank you so much for this. I don't know how to repay you." He opened the car door with his right hand and got in.

Surprisingly enough, the car's interior was clean. Tolys half-expected there to be burger wrappers everywhere, but it was practically spotless.

Tolys stared at the window. The sky was a vivid shade of navy, stars sprinkled about. The crescent moon hung high, spilling light onto the earth below.

_Isn't there supposed to be a dance next week? For homecoming, or something like that._

He sighed quietly to himself, wallowing in his own self-pity.

_Why should I go? There's nobody that would want to go with me anyway, and showing up alone would just make me look like more of a loser than I already am._

Tolys was oblivious, and even more so, unaware.

Unaware that he was dead wrong.

He would end up going to the homecoming dance.

And he certainly wouldn't go alone.

Alfred and Ivan would make sure of it.

* * *

**NOTES:**

_Да_ (Russian): Yes

A time signature is a notational convention used in music to display how many beats are contained in each measure. In _Marukaite Chikyuu_ , the time signature is 4/4, which means there are 4 beats in every measure.

A waltz is a dance song in triple time (3/3 time signature; 3 beats per measure).

You might want to familiarize yourself with other basic musical terms if you aren't familiar already. It could help you understand the story a little better.

Basically, every chapter in this arc is going to have something to do with music in case you haven't realized already. Some of the chapters will focus more or less on music than others, though.

This might be redundant and repetitive, but I will still continue to say it nevertheless. Thank you for reading.


	8. Interlocked

The house felt empty. Not physically. There were people to keep her company.

But empty in another sense. Empty of _joy_. Empty of _love._ Empty of _emotion._ Everybody was so cruel to each other and despised each other quietly. Confrontations were rare but harsh.

World-shattering.

Natalya had initially accepted this with little complaint, thinking that was just how their dynamic worked. Now, she knew something was wrong.

It's not like she didn't love her siblings. She loved them, especially Ivan.

But in all the wrong ways. She wanted to marry him, or 'become one' as he might say. Only then would Ivan know that his partner would never leave him. Natalya made a pledge to herself.

_I will never leave him. Not like all of the other traitors that he calls his comrades. They disgust me. Especially… that one._

_Tolys. Lithuanian, isn't he? Brown hair, emerald eyes. Acquainted with that cross-dresser Pole, nerdy Estonian, and anxious Lett._

_He's a pathetic sight. Always scared about something or the other, always following orders. Like an obedient puppy._

Natalya vaguely remembered visiting his place at one point in time. His house was rather small and far off, tucked away from most populated areas. A tidy cottage, with not a single speck of dust in sight. She couldn't help but wonder how he found the time to do such meticulous cleaning, especially when he was so preoccupied with doing other people's dirty work.

He had a dog. Small, brown, and fluffy. A cute little creature, barking out loudly every time the door opened. _An obedient little puppy._

Through all of her hot, salty, tears- through all of the pain she was in- Natalya couldn't help but smile. _Big brother said he loves me. Isn't that a good thing?_

_My precious big brother, always being abandoned._

_My precious big brother, always being left behind._

_My precious big brother,_

_Threatening me with a metal pipe._

Natalya choked back another sob, her face burning with sadness and heartbreak.

_How do I feel as though my heart has been broken if he was never mine to keep in the first place? Have I really been an inconvenience to him?_

The Belarusian girl grabbed fistfuls of her bedsheets and clutched them. _He still loves me. He loves me, even after all that has happened._

_I should be grateful._

Natalya let out a long sigh, her breath fogging up the window's glass.

_Can't I just apologize to Tolys? I can tell him I was sorry, tell him I didn't mean it. Then, big brother will-_

_NO._

_I have to let go. He is still my big brother, but this attachment I have to him-_

_It has to stop._

_This_ _**all** _ _has to stop. It's high time._

Natalya leaned against the windowpane, its cool surface caressing her cheeks.

_Ivan. His name is Ivan. I haven't called him that, since…_

_Since…_

Natalya bit her tongue, frustration boiling through her veins.

_Never. He has always been 'big brother' to me. And I thought that was what he wanted, too._

_But now, I know. He doesn't want me to stay with him forever and ever. He wants to find love somewhere else. He wants_ _**me** _ _to find love somewhere else._

She slid her eyes shut for a moment, allowing herself to drink in the blissful darkness.

_And… if he wants to find love with Tolys…_

_So be it._

┏━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┓

Lovino couldn't remove his eyes from the words on the paper. They jumped out of the page, practically screaming at him in a deafening volume.

' _Do you want to go to homecoming with me?'_

His vision focused on the last two words of the sentence, the proposition echoing through his mind endlessly.

' _With me?'_

_With him. That's really all I need to hear. Everything else is just a redundancy. Do I want to go to homecoming with Antonio?_

A thousand answers flooded into Lovino's mind, every single one just a reiteration of the last.

_Yes._

_A thousand times, yes._

_Of course._

_Duh._

_Why the hell not?_

Lovino ran a finger through his hair, purposefully avoiding the prominent curl at the top of his head. _Because God knows what will happen if somebody pulls that._

He blushed a furious red, memories that he believed to be faint reflections of the past rapidly invading his brain space.

_The first time somebody ever touched my curl. What a shitstorm, that was. It wasn't even anything romantic!_

_It was that stupid potato bastard, the one with the white hair and pink eyes._

_What a weird eye color. But to be honest, they were kind of cool. Almost like rubies._

Lovino thought about Antonio's eyes. _Emeralds. Really bright ones, too. Always happy and full of joy._ Then, he thought about his own.

_Feliciano said my eyes looked like Peridots. I don't know what that gem even is, dammit! Couldn't have my stupid brother said something more cliche and easy to understand?_

He looked at his lap. _Isn't that pathetic. My little brother is the only one who bothers talking to me._

_The potato bastard… I think Gilbert is his name. We were in third grade, and our younger brothers were playing in the field together._

Lovino's fist clenched at the thought of Ludwig. _Mr. Super Studly. He couldn't keep himself away from Feli, even when he was eight years old!_

' _Hey! What's that thing in your hair?' Gilbert asked._

_Lovino rolled his eyes and scoffed. 'None of your business, jerk bastard.' The only two words that seemed to be in his vocabulary back then. Still carries on today. Sometimes there are things that never change._

_Gilbert eyed the stray piece of hair curiously. Feliciano had one just like it, only it stuck out from the right side instead of the left. 'Really, though! Can't you tell the awesome me what it is?'_

_Lovino groaned loudly. 'Stupid jerkhole. Why do you have to be so nosy, eh?'_

_Gilbert crossed his arms over his chest. 'I'm not being nosy! I just want to know!' He reached his hand towards the hair curl, and alarm bells went off in Lovino's head._

_Lovino slapped the pale hand away, albeit a little too roughly. 'There's a difference between need and want! You don't_ _**need** _ _to know, so I won't tell you.'_

_Gilbert went silent. Lovino assumed this meant the argument was over._

_He was dead wrong._

_Gilbert quickly shot his hand up and pulled on the curl, then removed his hand even quicker._

' _Ah…' Lovino covered his mouth, only then realizing what had just happened. His face was tomato-red, as Antonio might say. His heart pounded through his chest, louder and harder than ever before. 'W-what did I tell you, jerkface?! Why did you do that?!' Lovino shouted._

_Gilbert smiled sheepishly and shrugged. 'It looks kind of like you enjoyed it,' he commented smugly._

Lovino gritted his teeth. _Bastard. Did nobody ever teach him to keep his hands to himself?_ He grabbed the curl between his fingers and tugged on it. Nothing happened.

_It's different when somebody else does it… I can't really explain what, though._

He removed the saxophone's reed from his mouth. _That's enough for today. My brain is getting tired of all of this romantic business. I want a break._

Lovino slid _Marukaite Chikyuu_ back into his folder and put his instrument back in its case. Just as he was about to get up from the chair, he heard a slightly muffled voice.

"F-feliciano…" Lovino froze. _If that's who I think it is… well, he better be scared._

Lovino left his bedroom, trying to follow where the sound came from. _Feli's room._ His stomach lurched violently. He could just imagine what was going on behind those doors, and it was far from innocent.

┏━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┓

Ludwig could feel the blush spreading on his cheeks, painting his face a dark pink. Feliciano smiled at him softly, his eyes shut as always.

"Ve~ Luddy! What was it that you wanted to tell me?" asked Feliciano eagerly.

_I wanted to tell you that I love you, Feliciano. I really love you. But I just can't. It's too hard. Why do feelings have to be so difficult?_

The emotions were too raw, too real to be expressed. Instead, Ludwig settled with a slightly more ordinary answer. "I just wanted to tell you that I'm glad we are friends."

 _Friends._ The word felt like a brick in his throat, hard and unmoving. It was a horrible choice of words, really. _Friends. Just friends, he thinks we are just friends._

Ludwig felt like he had just murdered someone as he saw Feliciano's smile drop. "Oh. Okay." the Italian said, his voice small and quiet. He tried to force his lips to smile again, wanting to show Ludwig that he was fine. Fine with just being _friends._ Content as it is, with nothing more to want for.

The air felt like it was suffocating Ludwig, a heavy weight pressing down on his lungs. The pounding was back.

_**Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.** _

His heartbeat sounded through his ears, in perfect 4/4 time like the bass drum he loved so much.

_**Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.** _

Ludwig wondered whether Feliciano's heartbeat sounded the same.

The two sat in an uncomfortably long silence. Time seemed to slow down, making every passing minute feel like an hour.

Feliciano, who always had something to say, said nothing. His eyelids parted, revealing small amber slits. He wasn't looking at Ludwig with the admiration he had back in the band hall earlier that day. He was looking at the ground, taking an unusual amount of interest in the wood grain.

Ignoring the anxieties in the back of his head, Ludwig slowly placed his hand over Feliciano's.

"F-feliciano…" He swallowed the lump in his throat, not knowing exactly what he should say next. "I was lying."

Feliciano looked into Ludwig's blue eyes inquisitively. "About what?" He wasn't prodding, he was genuinely curious.

Ludwig forced himself to maintain eye contact. _Love is hard. But that's how it's supposed to be. It's never easy to say, but if you really love someone that much…_

His gaze traced Feliciano's delicate features, pure desire pulsing through his veins.

_You're willing to take that risk._

_I am willing to take that risk._ "About us being friends…"

 _Wrong move._ Feliciano looked like he was hit by a freight train. "W-what? S-so you don't want to be friends anymore?" His hand began to shake under Ludwig's, trembling uncontrollably.

Ludwig shook his head quickly, hoping to dispel all of Feliciano's worries as fast as possible. " _Nein,_ Feli." Feliciano's head perked up at the sound of the nickname. Ludwig had never called him that before. Feliciano liked how it sounded in his thick, German, accent. "I… I wish to be more than friends…"

Feliciano's eyes burst open, sparkling with excitement. Still, he couldn't find the right words to describe what he was feeling.

"Feliciano Vargas…" Ludwig's voice was almost in a whisper. " _Ich Liebe Dich._ "

Feliciano parted his lips, not knowing what to say. All of the times he had flirted with the pretty ladies on the familiar streets of _Italia_ … none of those experiences had prepared him for this situation.

And that's what made it so magical.

" _Ti Amo_ , Luddy." Feliciano leaned in closer to Ludwig's chest, close enough to hear the bass drum beating in his heart.

Everything felt so _right._ Being there next to Feliciano. Ludwig ran his fingers through Feliciano's hair and accidentally pulled on the curl.

Accidentally.

But what happened next was not an accident.

"Ve~" Feliciano's eyes widened and his face reddened. He grabbed Ludwig by the chin and pulled him closer.

_Closer._

Close enough until their faces were mere millimeters apart.

_So close._

Ludwig knew at least something about romance to know what was supposed to happen next. _The kiss. Like in all of the fairytales._

_Except there is no handsome prince._

_There is no beautiful princess._

_It's just us._

Their lips crashed together. Ludwig predicted that.

But what he didn't predict was how overwhelmingly incredibly it was.

Sitting there, with Feliciano in his arms. Feliciano on his lips. So surreal.

It would have been a perfect moment. One to cherish forever.

The door swung open. Ludwig instinctively tried to pull away, but Feliciano's grip held still.

_Scheiße. This can't be happening, this isn't real-_

It was very much real. Lovino's angry expression was real.

And so was the large tomato that he threw at Ludwig's face.

The red fruit exploded as it collided with Ludwig's cheekbone. The hit wasn't as hard as Lovino intended, but it got a point across well enough.

"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?!" Lovino demanded loudly. The question wasn't necessary. It was obvious what was happening.

_And what was about to happen._

Ludwig wasn't ready to apologize. Why should he? Feliciano had every right to love who he wanted to love. Even if that person was a 'potato-eating bastard.' He cleared his throat and wiped the tomato guts off the side of his face. "We were kissing. Do you have a problem with that?"

Lovino looked like he wanted to snap Ludwig's neck like a glowstick. He opened his mouth, ready to give the German a good talking-to. Until he felt a hand on his shoulder.

Lovino turned around. "Antonio? Who let you in?!"

Antonio grinned. "The door was unlocked. Besides, who else would have left the tomato on the countertop?"

Lovino narrowed his eyebrows and glared at the floor. "S-shut up." he managed to say. He spun on his heel and scowled at Ludwig. "If Grandpa Rome was here right now…" Lovino lifted his fist in a warning. "He would have castrated you. Be glad he isn't."

Ludwig nodded and looked back at Feliciano. His eyes were closed. Again.

But his hand was interlocked with Ludwig's. And that was all that mattered.

_**Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.** _

The bass drum was back. Again.

_But maybe…_

Ludwig lifted his lips into a small smile.

_That's not so bad._

* * *

**NOTES:**

_Nein_ (German): No

 _Ich Liebe Dich_ (German): I love you

 _Italia_ (Italian): Italy

 _Ti Amo_ (Italian): I love you

A reed is a piece of thin cane or metal that vibrates certain amounts of air to produces musical sounds. They are used for Clarinets, Oboes, Bassoons, and of course Saxophones.

This chapter was supposed to be pretty mushy and romantic, I hope I did an alright job in portraying that. Anyhow, thanks for dropping by.


	9. Watchful

_Marukaite Chikyuu,_

_Marukaite Chikyuu,_

_Marukaite Chikyuu,_

_Boku Hetalia!_

_Marukaite Chikyuu,_

_Jitto mite chikyuu,_

_Hyotto shite chikyuu,_

_Boku Hetalia!_

_Aa hitofude de mieru subarashii sekai._

_Nagagutsu de kanpai da,_

_Hetalia!_

The lyrics repeated themselves in Feliciano's head.

_Marukaite Chikyuu,_

_Marukaite Chikyuu,_

_Marukaite Chikyuu-_

Feliciano took a deep breath. And then another. And then another. Mr. Edelstein didn't seem like the kind of person who would want to be interrupted. Especially this early in the morning. Feliciano took note of the large digital clock attached to the wall. 7:00 AM, to be more specific. Turning back now would be incredibly pathetic, though. He had come here for a reason, and he wasn't about to let a little anxiety get the best of him?

Right?

 _Big brother is never scared. He has the guts to say what he thinks, he doesn't care about being judged. Even though he can be kind of rude, he doesn't even have to pretend to be someone he isn't to get people to like him._ Feliciano bit his lip. _Like Antonio._

 _It's not like I'm not being myself. But the thing is, my true self is so scared all the time!_ Feliciano felt the small white flag in his pocket and pulled it out. Instead of waving it around, he just stared at it.

_Ludwig is always so nice to me. Doesn't he get annoyed with me? Am I just too obnoxious and needy for him?_

Worries and insecurities bounced around Feliciano's skull, piercing through his common sense and better judgment. _But I guess that's how it's always been. Hasn't it?_

_Somebody's always there to protect me. Like Grandpa Rome. Like Fratello._

_Like… Ludwig._

_What if he doesn't want to protect me? What if he thinks of me as a little kid? What if he's embarrassed to be seen around me?_

Feliciano recalled the feeling of Ludwig's lips on his. The magical kiss that happened a week earlier. Almost in an instant, all his concerns seemed to melt away. _His touch is so warm. Like a cute kitty cat!_

Feliciano thought for a moment.

_Maybe not cute. He's strong, though! Really, really, strong! I feel so safe when I'm with Ludwig!_

"Ita-chan?" Feliciano turned around, startled at the sudden voice. It had a distinctly German accent. Like Ludwig's, but not quite. A lot raspier, rougher. _Ludwig never calls me 'Ita-chan' either. Nobody calls me that._

_Except for one guy._

Gilbert. He had some strange obsession with Feliciano. Once, he had tried asking out the Italian on a date. Repeatedly. Feliciano pretended that he was too distracted by Gilbert's pet bird to answer, but he really wasn't. Unreciprocated feelings, one might say.

Feliciano pasted the smile back onto his face, golden eyes shutting quickly. " _Ciao_! What brings you here?"

Gilbert flashed an obnoxiously proud grin like it was second nature. "Sectionals." He pointed his thumb to the hallway's entrance. "There's a lot more where that came from, too."

Indeed he was right. The flute section consisted of a girl from Liechtenstein named Lilli, a boy from China named Yao, a boy named Emil from Iceland (alternatively known as 'puffin guy' to Feliciano), a girl from Seychelles named Michelle, and of course, Gilbert.

Feliciano's palms began to sweat. _I didn't know they had sectionals today… that means I won't be able to talk to Mr. Edelstein. That means I came here early for nothing._ "Oh. _Ciao,_ friends!" Feliciano waved to the other students, with all of them (with the exception of Emil) waving back.

Gilbert threw his elbow on Feliciano's shoulder. "What's wrong, Ita-chan? Did somebody threaten you? How fun."

Feliciano fought the urge to roll his eyes. _How does Luddy deal with this guy every day?_ "No," he replied, a little too quickly.

" _Ja Wirklich_? You look disappointed or something." Gilbert smirked and puffed out his chest. "Not like I know anything about that. I'm too awesome!"

"I'm not. Don't worry about it." The words came out a little more bluntly than Feliciano intended, but he couldn't help it. Gilbert was testing Feliciano's seemingly infinite patience.

"Feliciano…" Gilbert dropped the nickname. "You look kind of pale. Like, almost as pale as _me._ " To prove his point, he compared the complexion of his wrist to Feliciano's. Surely enough, they were close to identical.

Feliciano was shocked. _Am I really that easy to read?_ He just brushed it off. "Haha, maybe I'm just sick from that weird British pizza that I ate the other day. It kind of tasted like fish and vinegar."

Gilbert stared at him for a few moments, looking like he was about to actually say something earnest for once. All of those expectations were shattered once he let out his signature, boisterous, laugh. "Kesesesese! You're so funny, Ita-chan! It's been nice, but I don't want that little baby-girl-man-boy to yell at me. _Tschüss_!" He sprinted down the hallway (something he wasn't supposed to do) towards the band hall.

Feliciano watched as Gilbert left. He sighed and leaned against the cinderblock wall. _Whatever. I'll just talk to him some other time._ Through the small window in the door, he could see that the flute players were still setting up. Mr. Edelstein was sitting at his desk and didn't appear to be very busy or stressed. It would have been the perfect opportunity to approach him.

If Feliciano could manage to muster up the courage to do so.

_Why do I have to be such a wimp? I just sit there and wave this white flag around while somebody else does all the hard work for me. I can't fight off bullies like Ludwig. I can't voice my opinions like Lovino. So what can I do?_

_There are so many risks._

Feliciano gazed up at the fluorescent lights, which seemed to burn through his retinas.

_Maybe that's my problem._

_Maybe… I should take those risks._

The band room's door opened. Feliciano stood up straighter, realizing it was Mr. Edelstein.

"Mr. Vargas? Is there something you need?" The conductor didn't speak with Feliciano with the same authoritative, somewhat patronizing, tone he used for other students. Almost as if they had a secret.

They did.

_We do._

_A secret that won't ruin my life if accidentally exposed. A secret that isn't hurting anyone. A secret that isn't helping anyone._

_Then why do I keep it?_

_Why do_ _**we** _ _keep it?_

_Good questions. I don't really know what the answers are just yet. But isn't that what high school is about? Finding out stuff about yourself?_

_Finding out stuff about the world?_

' _Sekai.'_

_Kiku said it meant 'World' in Japanese._

' _Draw a circle, that's the Earth.'_

_No. No, it's not the Earth._

_The Earth is made out of people. Different cultures, nationalities, ethnicities, languages. Like the people here at World Academy._

_Isn't that what 'Marukaite Chikyuu' is supposed to be about? Why should I hide the fact that I wrote it?_

Feliciano snapped out of his thoughts to answer Mr. Edelstein's question.

_Take those risks._

"Yeah. I… I wanted to talk to you about _Marukaite Chikyuu_ ," said Feliciano.

Mr. Edelstein adjusted his glasses. "I see. Speaking of which, what inspired you to name the piece that way? It appears that it means something in a different language, though I don't know which one."

"That was kinda what I wanted to tell you." Feliciano pulled out the half-crumpled piece of paper that was in his back pocket. "There are lyrics, too." He handed the paper to the Austrian.

Mr. Edelstein read the lyrics pensively. "Very interesting."

 _Interesting? What is that supposed to mean?_ Feliciano smiled. "They're in Japanese. My friend Kiku wrote them for me."

A spark of recognition ignited in Mr. Edelstein's violet eyes. "Ah, Kiku Honda. He was in my Orchestra class last year." He paused as if he was trying to remember something. "He enjoyed writing. Poetry, short stories, everything in between." Mr. Edelstein glanced back at the lyrics. "I suppose poems and song lyrics are quite similar when it all boils down to rhythm."

_Wow! I didn't know Kiku liked to write! Maybe he'll let Ludwig and I read some of his work one day!_

"That's cool! Do you…" Feliciano looked at the tiled floor. "Do you want to hear me sing them?"

Mr. Edelstein turned around to check back on the flute section. They seemed to be fine warming up on their own. "I don't see why not." He gestured to the practice room to his right. "Would this be alright?"

Feliciano nodded and entered the enclosed room. The walls were a plain shade of gray, with the carpets being of a similar hue. It was a rather depressing place.

Until Feliciano began to sing.

He sang like he never had before.

_Marukaite Chikyuu,_

_Marukaite Chikyuu,_

_Marukaite Chikyuu,_

_Boku Hetalia!_

_Marukaite Chikyuu,_

_Jitto mite chikyuu,_

_Hyotto shite chikyuu,_

_Boku Hetalia!_

_Aa hitofude de mieru subarashii sekai._

_Nagagutsu de kanpai da,_

_Hetalia!_

_Marukaite Chikyuu,_

_Marukaite Chikyuu,_

_Marukaite Chikyuu,_

_Boku Hetalia!_

_Marukaite chikyuu_

_Hatto shite chikyuu_

_Funzori kaette chikyuu_

_Boku hetalia_

_Aa hitoyude de nakeru shiawase no recipe,_

_Yume no chakku zenkai da,_

_Hetalia!_

The gray, boring, room turned into a stage. The dull overhead light turned into a spotlight.

Nothing mattered anymore. It was just Feliciano and his music.

_Hetalia, Hetalia!_

_Hetare Hetalia!_

_Marukaite chikyuu,_

_Marukaite chikyuu,_

_Marukaite chikyuu,_

_Boku Hetalia!_

_Aa, hitofude de mieru subarashii sekai._

_Nagagutsu de kanpai da,_

_Hetalia!_

_Aa sekaijuu ni nemuru shiawase no reshipi,_

_Nagagutsu de tanken da,_

_Hetalia!_

The song was done as soon as it started. There were no more melodies left to play, no lyrics left to sing. The boring, gray, room was no longer a stage. The dull overhead light was no longer a spotlight.

It was just Feliciano and Mr. Edelstein.

The Austrian cleared his throat. "Feliciano." He looked at the paper once more. "Would you be interested in singing at the concert?"

┏━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┓

Natalya had been avoiding him. Ever since their confrontation the prior week, she didn't even bother coming close to her older brother. Ivan noticed. He _should_ have been glad that his message got across to Natalya. But he wasn't. Their dynamic just wasn't normal. It never had been. Up until then, she had been practically attached to Ivan. Now, she would do everything within her power to stay far away.

 _She's scared of me, now. Just like everybody else._ Ivan frowned at the thought. _There's only one other person in this school that isn't scared of me. Alfred._

A bitter taste filled Ivan's mouth. _Arrogant, stupid, childish, foolish, Alfred. He never changes, does he?_

_He will change. He will ignore his feelings for Tolys. Especially when Tolys inevitably becomes mine. I am not good at sharing._

_So I will not._

From the corner of his eye, Ivan could see Alfred. Baby blue orbs focused on something a few meters in front of him, not able to look away.

Curious, Ivan decided to see what had captivated the American so much. What he saw next made his blood boil.

_Natalya. Talking to Tolys._

Alfred looked upset, too. But in a different way. _Probably jealous. How immature._

Ivan grabbed his metal pipe, ready to defend Tolys from any potential injury Natalya would inflict on him.

As it turns out, Ivan did not have the correct context.

Natalya was _smiling._ Tolys wasn't a nervous wreck. Two things that Ivan believed would only happen once the Earth stopped turning, or when Feliciano would stop liking pasta. The pair were too far away for Ivan or Alfred to catch anything of their conversation.

_Maybe that is for the best._

_Natalya is still my little sister, and I love her. Anyone who hurts her will have to deal with me._

_Tolys is, well…_

_I love him. Anyone who hurts him will end up in a box six feet under._

Natalya and Tolys being _together_ felt like a giant punch in the gut. To not just Ivan, but Alfred too.

_I shouldn't get too ahead of myself. What's the harm in having a friendly conversation?_

Tolys laughed quietly. A laugh. A genuine one, not like those nervous chuckles that would escape his mouth every so often on impulse. To Ivan, it was one of the most beautiful sounds in the world. Single-handedly _the_ most beautiful sound in the world.

Because Tolys _was_ his whole world.

Much to his own surprise, Alfred walked up to Ivan.

"Hey. Commie. Do you know what's going on between them?"

Wanting to appear as the more mature one, Ivan responded simply. "No." _And I don't like it._

Alfred pouted and looked back at Tolys. "I mean, come on! He's chatting casually with the girl who _literally_ broke four of his fingers no more than a week ago."

Ivan agreed. _Why would Tolys do that? Why would Natalya do that? He's too scared and she's too scary._ But for the sake of fueling more annoyance in Alfred, Ivan did not express this. "Tolys can talk with whoever he wants."

Alfred narrowed his eyebrows. "Bullshit. You and I both know that you wouldn't let anyone near Liet if he was officially yours."

_So he's brave enough to call me out._

_There's a fine line between brave and stupid, though._

Ivan matched Alfred's stare, tripling the amount of intensity.

_Perhaps Alfred is both._

* * *

**NOTES:**

_Ja wirklich_? (German): Really?

 _Tschüss_ (German): Bye

Prussia calls Italy "Ita-chan" multiple times in the comic strips, I believe. He also canonically has some kind of feelings for Italy and actually has asked him on a date before.

I used some quotes directly from the Hetalia dub in here. Look through and try to guess which ones, if you're into that sort of thing.

Prussia calls Austria a "little baby-girl-man-boy" in the Hetalia English dub. It was hilarious, so naturally, I had to include it in here.

A sectional is a specific allotted time for the conductor of a band or orchestra or teacher to focus on and help people of specific sections with their playing. For example, a flute sectional would involve all the people in the flute section. Typically, the specific instrument's parts from larger pieces learned outside of sectionals (like concert pieces or audition music) are focused on here. Sorry if this is kind of confusing, I based the definition on my own experience.

Furthermore, I hope you're enjoying the story so far. See you next chapter!


	10. A New Contender

"Hey. You."

Tolys turned around cautiously. Natalya stared at him with an unreadable expression on her face.

"I… I wanted to talk to you," she said, not quite assertive as she normally was.

Tolys glanced down at his fingers, which were still in the process of healing. "U-uh, really? I don't mind." He tried to sound nonchalant but failed miserably.

Natalya looked at Tolys's bandaged fingers, chest tightening in guilt. "Look, I'm not going to hurt you or anything. You can…" She averted eye contact. "You can let your guard down, or whatever."

Tolys gulped. _The last time I did that, whatever followed was less-than-pleasant._

_And it was with Ivan. This is Natalya._

_His younger sister. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, does it?_

_Icy blonde hair, incredibly intimidating. The list goes on and on. They both seem to enjoy watching me squirm. Watching me suffer._

_It's not easy to just put that all away. Years of going through this mental and physical torment, all disappearing with a flimsy, half-hearted, apology?_

"Okay. So if you don't want to hurt me, what do you want to do?" Tolys asked apprehensively.

Natalya shifted from one foot to another. "Like I already said earlier." She twisted the ends of her hair. "Talk."

"Fair enough." Tolys didn't like holding grudges. _I guess Gilbert's an exception, though. He's just a moron, plain and simple._

He noticed the teacher walk in. Long blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. Almost a carbon copy of Ludwig. _Well, he is Ludwig's grandfather. Makes sense._

Mr. Beilschmidt tossed the stack of papers onto the desk with a loud, exaggerated, _thud._ "Students," he said in a curt greeting. "This is the second week of AP Euro. I would _assume_ that you have all gotten used to the course by now." He turned around, picked up a dry-erase marker, and began writing something on the board. "I would also _assume_ that you have been paying attention and studying diligently."

The students all nodded in agreement, despite the fact that many of them were still slacking off.

" _Sehr gut_. In that case, I can then _assume_ that you would all be completely fine with taking a pop quiz today." Mr. Beilschmidt stepped back from the board, revealing that it now said ' _POP QUIZ: LESSONS 1-3.'_

The classroom erupted into a chorus of groans and panicked yelling. Curses in multiple different languages fell upon Tolys's ears.

"Aw, come on! It's only been a week, give us a break!"

" _Oui!_ This is cruel and unusual punishment! I shall go on strike!"

"That's not going to help, you snail-eater! I'm sure there's another, more logical, way to make Mr. Beilschmidt reconsider."

Tolys put his face down on the desk. _Just 45 more minutes of this chaotic mess. Then third period will be over. Just ride it out, it shouldn't be that hard!_

Mr. Beilschmidt glared at the students. "You _dummkopfs_ have it way too easy! Back when I was younger, we had tests every day, and if we failed, they would beat us black and blue!" The lecture continued for a good 7 minutes until finally, the teacher decided on a compromise. "I will allow you some time to go over your notes. But JUST THIS ONCE. Okay?" He left the room in a huff, not without warning the students what would happen if they misbehaved in his absence.

Everyone muttered quiet 'yeahs' before scrambling to get out their textbooks.

Everyone except Natalya.

The Belarusian girl got out of her seat and walked over to Tolys's. "I am not finished. There was something else that I wanted to tell you."

Tolys sucked in a breath. _What more could she want from me?_ He looked down at his right hand.

 _Maybe she wants to break these fingers too?_ He impulsively hid his hands behind his back before replying. "Go ahead, then."

Natalya clasped her hands together. "I just wanted to say…" She opened and shut her mouth multiple times, looking as though she didn't know how to say what she wanted to say. "I'm sorry."

Tolys's green eyes widened in surprise. Never had he expected those words to come out of Natalya's mouth. Let alone _willingly._ "W-what?"

Natalya pulled her mouth into a frown. "Don't push it. I said I'm sorry."

Tolys couldn't miss the rare hint of sincerity in Natalya's statement. "For doing this?" He held up his left hand. "Because I'm fine, really."

Natalya shook her head. "No. Well, that too. But mostly for just treating you like this…" She looked at the floor. "I was awful. You didn't even do anything to me."

 _Is this some kind of weird dream sequence? To be honest, I don't even know if I'm liking it or not._ "Oh. I'm sorry too, I guess." There was nothing inherently wrong Tolys did to apologize for. But he did it anyway, partly out of instinct.

Natalya caught this, too. "Stop that."

"Stop what?" Now Tolys was confused.

"Just… stop apologizing for things you've never done. You shouldn't have to bear that responsibility."

Tolys nodded slowly. "Alright. And…" _Years of suffering. Can I really throw away an entire grudge after this?_ He hesitated. "Apology accepted. I hope we can be friends, now."

Natalya smiled. Tolys felt like he was in an alternate universe. _First, she apologizes, and now she smiles?_

He had to admit, she looked so much better without that aloof expression sewn on her face. So much _happier._

_We could all use a little bit of happiness in our lives._

"Yeah. Thank you. But," The smile disappeared, leaving a creepy grin (much like Ivan's) in its wake. "You will not hurt big brother. Understood?"

Tolys let out a laugh. Nothing too loud, just a small chuckle. "Certainly. But I think I should be more worried about him."

Natalya looked at him in concern. "Big brother is hurting you?" She would have never even considered condemning her precious big brother's actions earlier.

_Something must have changed._

Tolys shook his head. "No, not at all!" he lied. Either he was a terrible liar, or Natalya was just that sharp.

"Nonsense." Natalya glanced at the door, noticing that Mr. Beilschmidt was entering. "We'll continue this later. 5:00. Sharp." She handed him a slip of paper before returning to her seat.

 _This is her address. Wow, today keeps getting weirder and weirder! I can't believe I actually was invited to a girl's house!_ Dread seeped into Tolys's veins once he realized what that meant. _Her house is Ivan's house too. I've already memorized it by heart, so there's no need for it._ He folded the paper into a neat square and tucked it into his pocket. _I guess I can still carry it with me. For a keepsake, maybe. Plus, if Natalya is there, Ivan wouldn't want to bother me._

_Or at least I hope._

Through his peripheral vision, Tolys could see two pairs of eyes staring into him.

Baby blue and cold violet.

 _They were watching?_ Nausea built in his stomach, tossing its contents around recklessly. _I get why Ivan might be curious. Natalya's his younger sister. But… Alfred?_

Tolys shook it off, thinking it must have just been another weird coincidence.

Again, he was wrong.

┏━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┓

Fourth period. Band.

Alfred absentmindedly played his scales to warm up. Playing music didn't give him the same relief as he had hoped.

_I thought Ivan was the only one I had to compete with. And now, his psycho little sister is being thrown into the mix? This is crazy, and not in a good way!_

"Al. Not trying to be rude, but you're totally out of tune," commented Matthew.

Alfred moved the trumpet away from his face and sighed. "Am I? Oh, god. This love triangle is taking over my life." He remembered Natalya. _Love square, more like it._

"Is this about Tolys again? I thought you said you would ask him to the dance already," said Matthew skeptically.

Alfred nodded. "Kind of. I didn't ask him yet, I'm just waiting for the right time."

Matthew leaned back in his chair. "The right time? Alfred, the dance is _this week_! Four days! Remember the last time you procrastinated on something important?"

Alfred cringed as he remembered what exactly his brother was referring to. A major school project that he had been given months to complete. Alfred ended up doing the entire thing the day before it was due, and it was evidently clear when the teacher graded his work. "Yeah, but that's different! This is _romance,_ Matt! You can't rush into it too fast, or else it just won't work out."

Matthew giggled. "Alright, Mr. Love Doctor. But in all seriousness," The laughing ceased. "If you want something, you're going to have to go and take it. Things don't just come to you on a silver platter." He adjusted his glasses. "And if you wait too long, you'll be too late. Because somebody else is going to take it before you."

' _Somebody else is going to take it before you.'_

_Not a matter of_ _**it.** _ _A matter of_ _**who.** _

_Tolys. Tolys Laurinaitis, that's who._

_If I wait too long, Ivan's going to take him._

Alfred recalled all of the moments he had seen Tolys with Ivan. His poor Liet seemed so scared, so vulnerable.

_If Liet was with me, I'd give him everything he could ever want. Love. Gifts. Whatever. He wouldn't shrink away when I'm near him._

"Yeah. You're right." Alfred grinned and pumped his fist in the air triumphantly. "I'm gonna ask Liet to homecoming."

┏━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┓

Fourth period. Orchestra.

Ivan didn't really know what to think. On one hand, he should be happy.

Happy that Natalya was finally on good terms with Tolys.

On the other hand, he should be upset.

Upset and Tolys and Natalya were on such good terms.

It was difficult to sort out his feelings. He had never really been too good at that sort of thing. Tolys and Natalya were both people Ivan cherished deeply. But in different ways.

What would happen if they were to bond even further? Ivan knew full well about Tolys's schoolgirl crush on Natalya. It was painfully obvious.

Ivan thought he didn't have to worry about that. Natalya hated him that much that she would never be a direct competitor for his affection.

Now, Ivan was starting to doubt that.

_If Tolys chooses Alfred, I will get rid of Alfred. That is easy._

_But if Tolys chooses Natalya…_

_I can't get rid of Natalya._

The scene continued to loop in his mind.

Natalya smiling. Tolys laughing.

_They never do that when I'm around._

Ivan could hardly concentrate on his cello. Creating music wasn't necessarily his priority at the moment. Tolys was. _And he always will be._

_There is really only one thing I can do to guarantee Tolys as mine._

_I will show everyone else that he is mine. I will show Alfred that Tolys is mine._

_And…_

_I will show Natalya, as well._

_Homecoming dance. I told Alfred that Tolys would go with me, albeit indirectly. I can simply ask Tolys. He will be much too scared to say no._

Ivan shook his head.

 _No. That's not how a relationship should be. Love shouldn't be based on fear._ Ivan's eyebrow twitched. _That sounds like something that childish American would say._

_As much as I might not want to admit it… he's right. But what else can I do?_

_Tolys probably hates me. Wants nothing to do with me. I should just respect that._

_But I want him. I love him. I don't know how else to express that._

Mrs. Rutherford tapped his baton on the podium loudly. "Everybody, I'd like your undivided attention." She shuffled through some papers, pulling one out. "It has been brought to my attention that our concert date has been shifted."

The students began whispering among themselves, mostly in relief.

Mrs. Rutherford shot the students a glare to quiet them down. "I said, _**shifted**_ _._ Not _**postponed.**_ Furthermore, I must announce that the concert will be happening earlier than what was originally expected." She held up the paper that was sitting on her podium for the students to see. "September 26th, our annual symphony orchestra concert. This Friday."

It took a few seconds for everybody to process what Mrs. Rutherford had just declared.

_That's the day of Homecoming._

Mrs. Rutherford grabbed the paper and a highlighter, circled a certain part of the paper, and pointed to what she had circled. "September 26th. At 5:00 PM."

The Homecoming dance didn't start until 7:40.

The tension left the air immediately.

"Great. Looks like we have everything cleared up. But, there is one more thing that we have to consider with this sudden shift in dates," said Mrs. Rutherford. "We have a lot more work to do on this piece. So, let's get started."

* * *

**NOTES:**

AP Euro is short for Advanced Placement European History. You may or may not have been able to tell, but Germania is the AP Euro teacher.

 _Sehr gut_ (German): Very good

 _Dummkopfs_ (German): Fools/Idiots

Scales are the arrangements of notes in any system of music in ascending or descending order of pitch. One example is the B flat scale. These are often used to warm up and perfect musical tone quality before practicing.

I just realized that there's an inconsistency with the band and orchestra members. I forgot that China (Yao) was originally placed in the Orchestra and mentioned him as part of the Flute section. Disregard that please, he actually is supposed to play the Violin.

Francis mentions going on strike in the story. This was a reference to the whole "France's magical strike" thing in the Hetalia comic strips and anime. Britain's (Arthur's) reaction to this is also loosely based on the anime as well.

I'm not going to list out exactly what pairings are going to be involved in this story. This is because I don't want to make anything too obvious, and finding things out as you go along should enhance your 'reading experience' or whatnot. Just wanted to clarify this. (Although some are pretty obvious by now.)

Thank you for reading!


	11. Concern

Feliciano was oddly quiet, that afternoon. His mostly incoherent babbles of pasta and pretty ladies were absent, leaving an uncomfortable and heavy silence in the air. Typically the car ride home was excessively loud and energetic.

Lovino took notice.

"Listen, dumb-dumb. What has twisted your head around so bad, this time?" asked Lovino sourly. He still hadn't gotten over what he had seen in Feliciano's bedroom a week earlier. It was nothing serious, just a kiss. Though Lovino didn't see it that way. "If the potato shithead did something to you…"

Feliciano clenched and unclenched his hand. "Don't bring Ludwig into this, _fratello._ He didn't do anything wrong." He didn't even bother looking at his brother's face, amber eyes glued to the window.

Lovino was still unconvinced. "Tch, yeah right. What else could it be, then?" He crossed his legs and leaned back in the car seat.

Feliciano said nothing. Instead, he slowly reached into his pocket, brought out a piece of paper, and shoved it in Lovino's hand.

"What is-" Lovino glanced from the paper to Feliciano, then back again. " _Marukaite Chikyuu._ Feli… these are supposed to be the lyrics?"

Feliciano nodded, relieved that he didn't have to explain further. That was never really his strong suit. " _Si._ I talked to Mr. Edelstein this morning, Lovi." He cast a faraway stare at the blue skies through the window glass. "He asked me a question. I don't know how to answer."

Lovino tilted his head, motioning for Feliciano to elaborate. "Well? Don't leave me hanging!"

Feliciano sighed and absentmindedly played with the curl on his head. "Mr. Edelstein asked me if I wanted to sing. At the concert."

"What? Then why are you acting as if somebody died? Isn't this supposed to be a good thing?" Lovino was somewhat annoyed. Feliciano was presented with _another_ opportunity, and he was still upset. _Can't my stupid brother be grateful for once?_ He bit the inside of his mouth. _Maybe I don't have much room to talk._

Feliciano shook his head quickly. "No! It is a good thing!" Trying to prove his point, he brought his lips up in a smile. The grin fell from his face as soon as it came, revealing his true mental state. "It's just that…"

Lovino glared. "Say what you mean, dammit! Cut to the chase already!" He sucked in a breath. "What is it, Feli?" Lovino asked, his voice considerably softer than before.

Feliciano shifted in his seat. He held out his palm, gesturing for the paper back. Once it was in his hand again, Feliciano wouldn't let go of it. "I don't know what I should do." His fingers grazed over the paper. Hastily scribbled words meant so much more to Feliciano than anyone else would ever know. Singing is an art form. Art requires passion; emotion.

Revealing emotions raises the cost of vulnerability.

A heavy price to pay, indeed.

Feliciano didn't know if he would be strong enough to pay it.

Lovino didn't quite understand. "You're not making any sense, bastard. Isn't it obvious?" He could practically see the gears turning in Feliciano's head. "You know the lyrics. You _wrote_ the entire damn piece, for god's sake!" Lovino racked his brain, trying to find any possible reason as to why his younger brother would be hesitant. "Did that Japanese kid copyright the lyrics or something? Is that it?"

Feliciano grumbled something under his breath. "No. In fact, Kiku said he would be proud if I accepted." He braced his head in his hands and let out a distressed sob.

"I'm scared, Lovi!" The sobs turned into cries, ones that pierced right through Lovino's (seemingly) cold heart. They were loud enough to get the attention of Grandpa Rome, who turned down the radio's volume and turned around.

"Feli! What's the matter? Are you hurt?" Grandpa Rome pulled over at the nearest stop. "Lovino, what did you say this time?"

Lovino scowled. "It wasn't me, dammit!" He faced Feliciano again. "Feli... what are you so scared of?"

Feliciano wiped his tears on his sleeve. They still kept coming, pouring from his eyes like salty waterfalls. "I'm so scared all the damn time… why do I have to be so weak like this…" His voice was breaking apart rapidly, giving away to an endless pit of pain and misery.

Lovino didn't know what to say. This wasn't the Feliciano he knew.

The Feliciano he knew would laugh, talk, and smile.

He would also cry.

But never like this.

Grandpa Rome passed Feliciano a box of tissues which seemed to appear out of nowhere. "My poor grandson…" he muttered sympathetically, still not quite knowing how to handle the situation.

"You're not weak, Feli. You're just…" Lovino struggled to find the correct words. _Shit. I'm not built to handle this kind of melodrama!_

Feliciano's weeps grew even louder. "So it's true. I am weak," he choked out between whimpers.

"Listen to me," commanded Lovino assertively. When Feliciano didn't reply, Lovino grabbed his chin and swiveled his head around. Fear burned through Feliciano's eyes like dancing flames. "You aren't weak. And if anybody says you are…" Lovino brought his fist upwards in a threatening motion. "They're gonna get their ass kicked."

While Feliciano knew full well about Lovino's lackluster fighting abilities, the threat still held strong.

"You're just sensitive, okay? But you _aren't_ weak." Lovino unfurled his fist and lowered it. "Now, what are you so scared about?"

Feliciano's hair hung low in front of his red-rimmed eyes. "Singing," he whispered. "I'm scared to sing. In front of everybody. They're going to…" His frown deepened. "They're going to make fun of me."

"That's just the way people are. Humans like to judge others." Lovino gave his brother a reassuring look. "But if they make fun of you for trying, they're just stupid, jealous, brats and you have to be strong enough to ignore them."

"What if I'm _not_ strong enough?" Feliciano gulped. "I'm _never_ strong enough."

"At least have the guts to stand up and make an attempt. It's hard. Not a lot of people can do that."

Feliciano used a tissue to remove the remaining tears that clung to his face. He barely managed a weak smile. "Really?"

Lovino nodded. "Really."

Feliciano crumpled the tissue into a neat ball. "You're acting nice to me today, _fratello._ " He closed his eyes. "There's one more thing I have to ask you."

"Yeah?"

"Will you leave Ludwig alone?"

┏━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┓

Tolys was beyond anxious. He had never been so simultaneously nervous and excited for something in his entire life.

The path to Ivan's house was winding and familiar. Tolys had walked it far too many times to count.

But this time, things were different.

He wasn't there for Ivan. He was there for Natalya.

Natalya, the girl who Tolys had a crush on for as long as he could remember.

Natalya, the girl who was dead set on marrying his older brother.

Natalya, the girl who had mentally and physically abused Tolys for as long as he could remember.

Natalya.

The girl who had smiled at him.

It all seemed like one huge fever dream. If it was, Tolys never wanted to wake up.

The soft _crunch_ of the gravel underneath his shoes felt different, too. Reassuring, in a way.

Typically, Tolys wouldn't even be able to determine if he would leave the house alive or not.

But this time, things were different.

This one time. _Will it be the last?_

_If it goes well enough, it won't._

Tolys lifted his hand to the doorbell, lacking the wariness which seemed to constantly get the best of him.

The door opened. Tolys locked eyes with the person.

His blood turned into ice.

Violet. Endless puddles of Violet.

Not the Indigo that Tolys was expecting.

"Ah, Tolys. How very nice to see you." Ivan grinned and pushed the door open further. "Please come inside."

"H-hello, Ivan!" Tolys managed to say, trying (and failing) to mask his anxiety.

_What was I expecting? This is his house, too._

The interior of the house was the same as usual. Spotless, with not a single speck of dust in sight.

_I haven't been here in some time. Who's been cleaning this place up? Probably Raivis or Eduard._

Ivan noticed Tolys's tense demeanor. Up until then, he had thought of it to be typical for Tolys to be so rigid. Now, he knew the true reason behind it.

Behind all of that fear.

It was him.

While he also knew the real purpose of the brunette's visit, he wasn't intended on letting that happen. He wasn't ready to let go of Tolys just yet.

"S-so, isn't the weather nice today?" said Tolys, aiming to make small conversation.

"Yes. I would like to talk with you, Tolys." Ivan turned around to make eye contact. "And not about the weather."

"But I actually came here for-"

"Natalya. I know," Ivan interrupted.

_Of course, he knows. He_ _**always** _ _knows. How is that even possible?_

"O-oh, really? In that case, I can just-" Tolys tried to walk away, but felt a hand wrap around his wrist in protest.

_Resisting would be pointless._

His heart sped up.

_He knows. He_ _**always** _ _knows._

"Didn't you know it is very rude to leave while someone else is talking?" Ivan asked.

Even though it was supposed to be a rhetorical question, Tolys still answered.

"Yes, Ivan. I'm sorry."

Tolys mentally chastised himself.

_What did Natalya say to me earlier?_

' _Stop that. Stop apologizing for things you've never done.'_

_She's pretty tough. Maybe that's what makes her so appealing._

"You will have a seat, won't you?" Ivan's question sounded more like a command than anything else. Nevertheless, Tolys accepted.

"You seem to hold my younger sister to very high regard," Ivan remarked.

_He knows. He_ _**always** _ _knows._

A sick feeling twisted through Tolys's stomach.

_Lying would be pointless._

"Yes. I… I do." he admitted.

Ivan nodded slowly, as if he was still trying to digest the information. "I see." He then proposed a more direct question. "Do you love her?"

Tolys's jaw hung open in an almost cartoonish way. He quickly shut it, searching desperately for an answer.

_Yes?_

_No?_

_Both would be wrong. Honestly, I don't know how I feel about her._

_She's beautiful. She's strong._

_But do I love her?_

"I take it that you are having a hard time answering." Ivan clasped his hands together.

_He knows. He_ _**always** _ _knows._

"I don't know."

_That feels wrong, too._

_But is there ever truly a correct answer?_

"Hm. I will accept that," Ivan said. "Let me ask you another question. Do you love Alfred?"

Tolys drew his eyebrows together in confusion.

_Alfred F. Jones? Why would Ivan ask about him? We used to be kind of close, but we hardly ever talk anymore._

_It's still a question, though._

_Yes?_

_No?_

_Maybe I did love him, back then. While I was living at his house. Just_ _**maybe.** _

Tolys couldn't help but notice the slight tightness in Ivan's conduct at the mention of Alfred.

_They don't like each other._

_Of course, they don't._

Tolys felt as though a weight was lifted off his chest.

_This makes things a lot easier._

_Now, all I have to do is tell him what he wants to hear._

"No. No I don't."

_That feels wrong, too._

He glanced around the living room curiously.

_This whole situation feels wrong. Yet, I can't seem to place exactly what._

Ivan nodded again. " _Ладно_. There's one more thing that I was wondering."

_What is it, now? Is he going to ask about my social security number?_

_Oh, wait._

_He already knows that._

_He knows. He knows._

_He_ _**always** _ _knows._

"Tolys. Do you love me?"

And at that moment, Natalya decided to arrive.

┏━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┓

Ludwig watched as his brother downed another beer. Technically, neither of them were old enough to consume alcohol. Naturally, Gilbert disregarded this rule completely, claiming that 'his awesome body requires beer.'

"Hey, West! I talked to Ita-chan this morning!" Gilbert yelled, his words somewhat slurred.

Gilbert snatched the beer bottle from his older brother's hand, determined to be the sensible one of the pair. "Since when did he let you call him 'Ita-chan'?"

Gilbert shrugged. "Since never. But that doesn't stop me!"

Ludwig was still slightly curious as to how Feliciano was doing. "Anyways. What did you talk about with Feliciano? Unless this entire story is complete _bullenscheiße_ , which is to be expected."

Gilbert pressed his hand to his chest in mock offense. "What are you talking about, _bruder_? I'm the most honest guy around!" His expression turned considerably more sullen. "But in all seriousness… Ita-chan was acting kind of strange."

Now Ludwig was concerned. "Strange? Like how? Was he sick? Was he upset? Explain!"

Gilbert took a step back. "Calm down, will you?" He scratched his head. "Ita-chan looked really pale… I think he was scared or nervous about something. Wouldn't tell me, though."

Dread clawed at the inside of Ludwig's body like some kind of parasite. _I have to make sure he's okay. But…_

Ludwig glanced at the window. The sun had just set. He didn't have a car, and Gilbert's car was out of gas.

_There's no way._

_**Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.** _

There it was. The bass drum.

Ludwig stuck his hand in his pocket, feeling cool metal against his fingers.

A ring.

A tomato-shaped ring.

It would seem kind of ridiculous to an outsider looking in.

But not to Ludwig.

He tightened his grip on the ring, trying to maintain a hold on his resolve.

_You love him. You love Feliciano Vargas._

_You will give this ring to him._

_You will ask him out to the homecoming dance._

_You will tell him everything._

_About how beautiful his eyes are._

_About how beautiful his lips are._

_About how beautiful_ _**he** _ _is._

_**Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.** _

_Everything._

_Everything that one kiss couldn't._

* * *

**NOTES:**

_Fratello_ (Italian): Brother

 _Si_ (Italian): Yes

 _Ладно_ (Russian): Okay

 _Bullenscheiße_ (German): Bullshit

 _Bruder_ (German): Brother

I am not encouraging underage drinking! Please remember to adhere to the alcohol consumption laws in your state/country!

The tomato-shaped ring is referring to the ring Germany gives Italy in the Buon San Valentino episode/comic strip. (I enjoy adding in these little references in the story, in case you haven't realized.)

Thanks for reading! Stay tuned for the next chapter! Things might get a little juicier, if you know what I mean. (Please note that I'm not referring to anything explicit. This story is not supposed to be restricted to mature audiences. I might make a few references here and there, though.) 


	12. Passive-aggressive

"Tolys. Do you love me?"

His blood ran cold. Time in itself seemed to come to a complete halt. Scattered thoughts came in and out of Tolys's brain, with none of them containing even the slightest bit of rationality.

_Why is Ivan asking me this? Why does he care? Why does he want to know?_

_**What** _ _does he want to know?_

_I thought he always knows. Apparently, he does not._

Tolys swallowed and blinked rapidly. His hands began to shake, with the rest of his body following suit. His vision swirled and blurred, with only one thing remaining constant and unwavering.

His eyes.

Violet eyes.

Cold eyes.

_Ivan's eyes._

Wide, consumed with the false guise of childlike innocence.

_Far from it. That's the truth._

Tolys's tongue felt far too big for his mouth. "W-what?"

Ivan didn't even get the opportunity to answer.  
"Big brother." Natalya stood in the doorway, hands rested assertively on her hips. She tilted her head towards Tolys. "So you came. What an obedient puppy, you are. No wonder my big brother likes you so much." The last sentence was intended to sting like venom. Not to hurt Tolys.

To hurt Ivan.

Tolys breathed a sigh of relief, glad his uncomfortable conversation with Ivan was cut short. "Yes, I did." He glanced between Ivan and Natalya, unsure of whether he should rise from his seat or not.

Ivan cleared his throat. "Natalya, I still have some unfinished business with Tolys. Would you mind waiting for a few minutes?"

Natalya's eyebrows narrowed. "I would mind. I was the one who sent for him, after all." She smirked. "So I get first priority."

Ivan's jaw tightened, almost as if he was hiding his burning rage.

_He probably is._

"I understand. However, the matter I wish to discuss with him is…" Ivan looked to Tolys, his expression unreadable. "Important."

Natalya looked like she was observing the passive-aggressive argument from a fancy box seat with a glass of champagne, rather than taking part in it herself. "How important? Because, if your little _discussion,_ " She brought her fingers upwards, doing air quotes. "Was all that important, you would have asked beforehand."

Ivan said nothing, and Natalya's smirk widened. She had won the dispute.

Or so it appeared.

"Fine, then." Ivan walked towards Tolys and pushed him towards Natalya a little too aggressively. "He's yours. But just remember…" The outline of a metal pipe was made visible under his clothes. "If anything gets physical, I will have no choice but to intervene."

Natalya scoffed. "Noted. Come with me, puppy." She grabbed Tolys's arm, manicured fingernails digging through the thin fabric of his shirt into his skin.

Despite himself, Tolys blushed. _Puppy, huh? I guess that could kind of seem like a term of endearment. Puppies are cute. Does she think I'm cute?_

He shook his head.

_Maybe I'm getting a little too ahead of myself right now._

Lost in his thoughts, Tolys was unable to realize that Natalya had dragged him all the way up the stairs into her bedroom.

It was pretty anticlimactic, actually. Nothing like the dramatic bedroom scenes Tolys would find in the Hollywood dramas that Alfred used to binge.

Natalya sat on her bed and patted the spot next to her, motioning him to sit. He did, but not without a little bit of hesitation.

_I'm sitting on Natalya's bed! Next to her! This can be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!_

Tolys would have never fathomed that he would be able to get so close to Natalya. Physically and emotionally.

She didn't like being close with others. Natalya guarded everything. Secrets, thoughts, emotions- everything. Her bedroom door was always locked. So was her mouth. Somehow, Tolys was able to break the seal.

"This is a nice place you have," Tolys remarked.

Natalya frowned. "You've already seen it."

Tolys placed his elbows on his thighs and leaned on them. "Not really. I mean, I've cleaned this entire place too many times to count, but you would never let me clean in here."

Natalya thought for a moment. "Hm. I suppose you're right. On a different note," Her posture straightened. "Like my brother, I have seperate things that I wish to discuss with you privately."

 _I expected as much._ Tolys raised an eyebrow. "What did you want to talk about?"

Natalya cut to the case immediately. "My big brother. Is he hurting you?"

_Another difficult question._

_Yes?_

_No?_

_Maybe?_

Tolys's shoulders stiffened. "N-no…"

Natalya glared at him, indigo eyes gleaming with disapproval. "Don't lie to me. I want to help you." Her words seemed well-meaning enough, but her tone showed otherwise.

_Tough girl._

Nevertheless, Tolys knew that telling the truth would be the only way out. He took one deep breath, hoping that the words would flow out smoothly. _Or as smooth as they can be._

"He used to."

Three words. Three simple words, walking the thin and treacherous tightrope of trauma and regret. Three words. They came out hushed faint, almost like whispers.

Natalya's eyes widened. Her right eyelid twitched. "I know I told you to tell me the truth…" Her voice sounded like a whisper too. "But right now, I really wish you're lying."

Tolys parted his lips, about to say something. Anything.

Nothing.

He _could_ say _nothing_.

But he _would_ say _something_.

"It's the truth, Natalya," Tolys said. _The cold, hard, unforgiving, truth._

Natalya shook her head, as if she was trying to deny it. "Big brother wouldn't… he couldn't…" She trailed off. "Especially not to someone like you."

_Someone like me?_

"He did. I… I can show you, if you want," Tolys offered hesitantly.

Natalya looked like she wanted to shake her head again. Shield herself from the truth. _The truth that's harder to swallow._ She didn't.

_Tough girl. Should have known that by now._

"Show me. Show me what he did to you, Tolys."

Regardless of the tense circumstances, Tolys still managed to feel a wave of embarrassment. _The scars are on my back. I would have to take my shirt off._

"Are you sure you want to see? They aren't pleasant to look at."  
Natalya crossed her arms over her chest. "Nothing is pleasant to look at, Tolys. The _world_ isn't even pleasant to look at, most of the time." Determination pulsed through her veins. "Yet, we still keep our eyes open."

Tolys slowly nodded. "Can you at least look somewhere else for a few seconds?"

"No. Unless you have something else that you're hiding, I don't think I will."

_Tough girl._

_How many times do I have to learn?_

"If you insist."

┏━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┓

Feliciano was tired. Tired of being scared. Tired of being hesitant. This was it. This was his chance to prove to nobody. Nobody but himself, and himself alone.

Prove to himself that he wasn't just a pasta-obsessed dimwit. Prove to himself that he had some resolve still left.

_Nobody but myself, and myself alone._

_Like how it was in that practice room. Mr. Edelstein was listening from the outside._

_But only I was on the inside._

_This will be different. Singing on a stage with the rest of the Orchestra, with hundreds of people watching._

_Not just myself. The whole world._

_The Americas, Europe, Asia, Australia. All over the globe._

_I'm going to do it. What's the worst that can happen, anyway?"_

_**They're going to make fun of you. They're going to judge you.** _

Feliciano bit his lip hard. Hard enough to draw blood.

_**At least have the guts to stand up and make an attempt.** _

This wasn't easy. None of this was easy. But what's the harm in trying?

Feliciano turned on the computer. It booted up almost immediately with a small chime. He moved his cursor towards the search bar.

_**This is it.** _

The familiar interface of his inbox appeared on the screen.

_All I have to do is email Mr. Edelstein. Easy enough…_

Subconsciously stalling, Feliciano scrolled through his unread messages. Almost all of them were from Ludwig.

Feliciano cocked his head at a slight angle. _What is this all about? Ludwig doesn't normally do this._

He read the first email.

' _Feliciano, are you doing alright? Gilbert said that you were acting strange this morning, so I wanted to check up on you.'_

' _Feliciano? I've already texted you multiple times, and you haven't' replied. I'm worried about you.'_

Feliciano had never felt so flattered and terrible simultaneously.

_Ludwig must really care about me._

"Luddy…" Feliciano reached his hand towards the glowing screen, wishing for Ludwig's presence with every cell in his body.

The door opened. " _Luddy_? Why are you saying that potato bastard's name that way?"

Feliciano wished he could turn around and throttle Lovino.

Lovino shoved Feliciano aside and looked through the emails. He grabbed his brother's phone and switched it on. There were hundreds of messages and missed call notifications flooding the lock screen. Each one from Ludwig.

"What happened?" Lovino looked back at the phone. "The way your ' _Luddy'_ is acting, I would think you got hit by a goddamn bus!"

Feliciano shook his head. "I saw Gilbert in the band hall, this morning. I was scared to talk to Mr. Edelstein…" The entire situation felt so ridiculous, now. Strings of misunderstandings clumped together in one huge mess. "Gilbert must have thought I was sick, or something."

"That bastard. All Germans are so backward and judgemental." Lovino pressed the back of his hand to Feliciano's forehead. "You aren't actually sick, are you?"

"Does being lovesick count?"

Lovino shot Feliciano with a glare. "Nevermind. So, are you just gonna keep staring at the computer like an _idiota_? Send the email, already!"

_**Stand up and make an attempt.** _

"Ve~ okay! Just please stop yelling!" Feliciano placed his hand on the mouse and clicked the compose button.

_**This is it.** _

* * *

Mr. Edelstein,

 _Ciao!_ I'm **really really really** sorry that I couldn't answer your question earlier today, I just got super anxious. Anyways, my _fratello_ is sitting behind me and making that mean face and it's kind of scary, so I'm going to get to the point already.

Yes. I'd love to sing at the concert! I'm really happy that you liked my singing, too! If it wouldn't be too much trouble, could you arrange for some other people to sing with me? (Like maybe a _bella ragazza_ would be nice!) It would make this a lot less scary for me. I'm also gonna write the lyrics here, too.

_Marukaite Chikyuu,_

_Marukaite Chikyuu,_

_Marukaite Chikyuu,_

_Boku Hetalia!_

_Marukaite Chikyuu,_

_Jitto mite chikyuu,_

_Hyotto shite chikyuu,_

_Boku Hetalia!_

_Aa hitofude de mieru subarashii sekai._

_Nagagutsu de kanpai da,_

_Hetalia!_

_Marukaite Chikyuu,_

_Marukaite Chikyuu,_

_Marukaite Chikyuu,_

_Boku Hetalia!_

_Marukaite chikyuu_

_Hatto shite chikyuu_

_Funzori kaette chikyuu_

_Boku hetalia_

_Aa hitoyude de nakeru shiawase no recipe,_

_Yume no chakku zenkai da,_

_Hetalia!_

(I think this is where the intermission is supposed to go! You know, with all of the cool percussion stuff!)

_Hetalia, Hetalia!_

_Hetare Hetalia!_

_Marukaite chikyuu,_

_Marukaite chikyuu,_

_Marukaite chikyuu,_

_Boku Hetalia!_

Anyways, I hope the rest of your day is filled with pasta, kitties, and cute girls! (人◕ω◕)

\- Feliciano Vargas

* * *

"Pasta, kitties, and cute girls?" Lovino read the email, one eyebrow raised in disbelief. " _That's_ how you close your emails?"

Feliciano nodded and grinned. "Who doesn't like those things?"

Lovino said nothing for a few seconds. "I _guess_ you're right. What's with that stupid face, anyway?" He pointed at the small emoticon that Feliciano had taken the liberty to add to his closer.

"Oh, yeah! Kiku told me they were _kawaii_! And that's, like, the highest form of praise in Japan!"

"Whatever floats your boat. I still think it's stupid, though." Lovino rolled his eyes. "Are you gonna hit send?"

Feliciano could hear his heart beating through his chest. _Like Ludwig's bass drum._

_**Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.** _

_Sending this email… it's like making a commitment._

_**Make an attempt.** _

_**This is it.** _

Feliciano's index finger was mere centimeters away from the mouse.

He clicked.

_**An attempt.** _

_**That was it.** _

┏━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┓

Lovino couldn't help but feel proud of his younger brother. Sure, he wouldn't be singing _alone._

It was still a considerable risk to make.

"Ahh! Lovi, I don't know if I made the right decision!" Feliciano cried.

"Well, at least you tried. Anyways, I have to go." Lovino got up from his seat and threw the door open.

His footsteps echoed through the mostly empty house. Grandpa Rome was at the market, leaving just him and Feliciano.

_That's how it's always been._

_But why does it feel so wrong, dammit?!_

Antonio. It was always Antonio.

Lovino would rather die than admit that, though.

_Always smiling and laughing. And giving me those stupid tomatoes._

Lovino stopped in the kitchen. Sitting on the countertop was one tomato.

Round, red, and shiny. Perfect.

Almost as red as the blush that painted his own cheeks.

Right next to the fruit was a small note.

_This is new._

Lovino picked up the small scrap of paper and read it.

_¡Hola! This tomato is one of the best of the batch, I hope you enjoy it! I haven't been able to stop by your place in a while, so tell Feli-chan that I send my regards. That's also why I'm writing this note to you._

_I apologize for digressing, but I really wanted to ask. Isn't there a symphony orchestra concert this week? Friday, right?_

_The same date of Homecoming._

_¡Te Quiero, Lovi!_

Lovino could hardly believe what he was reading.

_**Te Quiero.** _

_It means…_

_**I love you.** _

He chuckled quietly.

_I love you too, bastard._

* * *

**NOTES:**

_Bella ragazza_ (Italian): Beautiful girl

 _Kawaii_ (Japanese): Cute

More references to the English dub in here. Yay.

Thanks for reading!


	13. Desperate Getaway

Natalya's mouth formed a small O. She could hardly believe what she was looking at. Or rather, who she was looking at.

_Tolys. I never knew it was this bad._

Scars. Long, gnarled, pink, lines of flesh traversed the surface area of Tolys's back.

_How did I never know? It really was this bad, wasn't it?_

It really was that bad. But that didn't stop Natalya from staring. She never looked away. Not even once.

"Tolys… when did Ivan do this?" Natalya didn't even bother calling him 'big brother.'

_Ivan doesn't deserve if. Especially after what he did._

Tolys squirmed under the harsh scrutinization of his body. "About a year ago…" He looked to the ceiling, as if he was trying to recall something. "Alfred was hosting a Halloween party at his place. I was planning on going with Feliks, but Ivan stopped me." Tolys angled his head towards the ground. "He said he had a special costume for me." He chuckled darkly. "It was a maid cosplay."

Natalya felt lightheaded. _A maid cosplay? I have an idea on where this is going. It can't be good._ "And?"

"Well, you can probably imagine what happened next."

_No. I can't even imagine. I don't even know the half of it._

"I changed into the costume. It was… embarrassing. To say the least," Tolys continued. "Ivan must have been in a bad mood that night. He pulled me into his bedroom and locked the door…"

Natalya gritted her teeth together. "He didn't… you know…" She could hardly get a few words out of her mouth, let alone string coherent sentences together.

Tolys's eyes widened at the implication. "No! No, he didn't do that."

Natalya breathed a small sigh of relief. The relief was incredibly short-lived, though.

"Ivan took out this giant whip from his closet and he started hitting me. I don't remember a lot of it." Tolys sighed in discontent. "It was all just one huge blur of pain and anger. I told him to stop. It didn't work."

It took every ounce of self-control in Natalya's body to not snap. "He did this. Ivan did this. To you," she murmured to herself, still trying to get her thoughts in line. Without thinking, Natalya brought her hand towards Tolys's back and ran her finger along the length of one of the scars.

Tolys flinched and stepped away.

"I'm sorry," Natalya apologized. "Does it still hurt?"

Tolys averted eye contact. "Sometimes. It's a duller type of pain," He described. "I got over it eventually."

Natalya stood up from the bed and left the room in a hurry.

"Wait! Natalya, where are you going?" cried out Tolys before following her.

Natalya wanted to murder Ivan.

Her precious big brother.

_He did this to Tolys. He must pay the price._

She stopped in front of Ivan's room. The door was unlocked.

_Nobody's in here. Good._

Natalya twisted the brass doorknob slowly, not wanting to make too much noise.

She made a beeline for the closet in the corner of the bedroom. The closet's doors were made out of lacquered cherry wood.

What she saw inside made her heart burn.

Among all of Ivan's clothes was a smaller, tighter, outfit.

With white frills adorning the hem and neckline.

A maid cosplay. The _exact_ maid cosplay Tolys was describing.

The fabric was stained light pink. Natalya's stomach churned as she realized what could have coloured it in this particular way.

The back of the dress was open. Torn.

 _Giving away to permanently scarred_ _flesh. Tolys's flesh._

"Natalya?"

She spun on her heel, only then noticing Tolys's presence. He looked pale, like he was about to vomit. She couldn't blame him.

Natalya said nothing. Instead, she pulled the dress from the closet.

"Natalya, what are you doing?" Tolys asked urgently.

Natalya said nothing. _I'm doing what you_ _ **should**_ _have done months ago. Foolish puppy._

She exited the bedroom, with nothing but rage burning in her bones. A flame that would never be quenched.

Meanwhile, Tolys wasn't so sure of what _he_ was supposed to do. He was standing in the middle of Ivan's bedroom shirtless. _What is there to do? I could just leave._

Tolys thought of how angry Natalya looked as she stomped away. All of that anger was directed to one person, and one person alone. Ivan.

_I should just leave them alone. I mean, it's not really my business._

_But it is. This is about me, right?_

A sinking feeling took root in Tolys's stomach.

_If I had just kept my mouth shut, this wouldn't be happening right now._

He glanced up at the door, still ajar.

_Whatever Natalya's going to say, whatever Natalya's going to do… it'll be harsh. Should I just let it happen? After all, Ivan was the one who gave me these scars._

Tolys couldn't have been more unsure of himself in that very moment.

 _That isn't who I am, though. I'm not tough like Natalya. I'm not intimidating like Ivan. Is revenge really something I want? Is revenge really something I_ _**need** _ _?_

_Yes?_

_No?_

_Maybe?_

_These questions- I'm so goddamn tired of them. There's never a straight answer to anything, is there? Always_ _**maybe** _ _, always_ _**somewhat** _ _._

_Always in between._

_Being assertive was never something I was good at._

_That hasn't changed._

_I don't think_ _**I** _ _have changed._

_Have I?_

Tolys hesitated for a brief moment.

He left Ivan's bedroom silently.

But all of his anxieties stayed with him.

┏━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┓

Ivan wanted to leave. The walls of his large house seemed to be crashing in on him, crumbling bit by bit.

So he left.

He took Katyusha's silver Lexus and left.

Ivan didn't even know where he wanted to go. Anywhere would be fine, really. As long as it was away from home.

_Home. I suppose my house isn't really much of a home. There's a difference between the two, believe it or not. We all seem to be in a perpetual state of distaste. For each other, for the world- anything goes. But Tolys, Eduard, and Raivis… they used to stay with us._

_They were constantly scared. Trembling, frightened, wary. Especially Tolys. The way he moves when he's around me… it's almost like he's walking on eggshells._

Ivan's grip on the steering wheel tightened.

_But when he's with that silly American, he's fine? What does Alfred have that I don't?_

_Diabetes? An excessively high cholesterol?_

_The list goes on and on._

There was a reason Ivan wanted to get away. He knew what would have happened if he stayed.

For starters, Natalya had _invited someone over_. She would never even consider doing that unless there were important matters to discuss.

Or perhaps, the _person_ was the important matter.

Natalya seemed to be warming up to Tolys. Ivan didn't like it.

Tolys was his, and his alone.

Ivan was able to chalk up Alfred's ignorance to this notion to pure foolishness.

But Natalya was smarter. Leagues smarter.

Shouldn't she know better?

Nevertheless, Ivan kept driving. He knew that the topic of discussion that Natalya would propose had _something_ to do with him.

One thing would lead to another, and then finally, Tolys would tell her everything.

No. Not tell.

Show.

He would show her the scars. Show her the pain.

Everything.

Natalya wasn't easy to deal with when she was calm.

But when she was mad?

Ivan didn't even want to think about it.

Nothing would really matter if Tolys rejected him, anyway.

Ivan had tried asking him. Back in the living room, before Natalya could interrupt.

_**Do you love me?** _

_I'll admit, that was a very risky jump to make. No wonder Tolys couldn't answer me._

But what if he was given the opportunity to answer?

No interruptions, no objections.

Nothing. Just him and Ivan alone.

Ivan's heart pounded against his ribcage like a violent bird at the thought.

_I asked him if he loved Alfred. He said no._

_He must have been lying. I could see it in his eyes._

_His eyes… they're beautiful things. Forest green, radiating with bright hope and passion._

_I wonder… if we could have children…_

_Would they bear those same green eyes?_

Ivan almost laughed at the idea.

_Two males cannot have children. That is silly. Something that only happens in fiction stories written by overly-enthusiastic teenage girls who have nothing better to spend their time on._

The headlights of Katyusha's car cut into the dark road in front of him.

This place was unfamiliar, no doubt. There were no signs of civilizations in sight. Just trees, stretching endlessly beyond the midnight horizon.

" _Дерьмо_. Shit. _Merde._ " Ivan swore under his breath in every language he could think of. He was lost, wasn't he?  
Ivan immediately brought out his phone with the intent on utilizing the helpful GPS app.

It was as good as useless in the middle of nowhere. There was no reception, whatsoever.

_No. No, no, no. This can't be happening, this isn't happening._

He sighed loudly.

_This is happening, isn't it?_

_I need to stay calm._

_Deep breaths._

_Inhale, exhale._

_Inhale, exhale._

_Inhale-_

He couldn't do it.

_I can't call anyone, there's no shops or neighborhoods anywhere near here._

_Even if I could call someone, who would come?_

_I took Kat's car. Tolys doesn't have one, and neither does Raivis or Eduard._

Ivan leaned back in his seat.

_Is there really nobody else to call?_

_Maybe someone from that group I allied with a few years ago. Arthur, Francis, Yao._

_And Alfred._

_That idiot. How was I ever friends with him?_

_Well, upon further consideration, our alliance wasn't much of a friendship at all. We really just resented each other quietly._

Ivan thought of Francis and Arthur, and their constant bickering.

_Maybe 'quietly' isn't the best term to use here._

_I do recall getting along better with Yao, though._

A dark expression crossed Ivan's face.

_And look where that ended up._

_Gone to ashes._

_Just like every other relationship I've tried to involve myself in._

_People just run away._

_Either that, or they just obey me reluctantly._

_Is there any exception to that?_

Ivan recalled a pair of vivid blue eyes behind clear lenses of glass. A far cry from Tolys's green ones. But nonetheless…

Ivan was still rather intrigued by them.

Although he would never say that out loud.

_Alfred never ran away, come to think of it. Always running headfirst into situations like the incompetent person he is._

_I do admire his resilience. Somewhat._

Ivan pulled over in the middle of the road. It's not like there was anyone else trying to pass through, anyways. So what was the harm?

If only Ivan was able to see what was coming next.

┏━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┓

Band practice was exhausting. Alfred assumed that Mr. Edelstein would go at least a _little_ easier on them. After all, it was only the beginning of the season. He was sorely mistaken.

Mr. Edelstein had even insisted that they practice their marching formation while they were at it ( _We have a pep rally tomorrow! Have you students ever heard of hard work and discipline?_ )

Which is what ultimately led to Alfred having to drag his ass to a desolate field in the middle of nowhere. He was certainly not happy about it.

 _At least it's over now!_ He smiled to himself, glad that there was a bright side.

The sun had set. It was around 6:50 in the evening, and Alfred was driving back. Surprisingly enough, he knew exactly how to get back to his house. The drive was _almost_ peaceful.

Almost. Alfred thought he was the only one who took this particular route back from the field.

Apparently not.

Through the Chrysler's windshield, Alfred could see another car about 30 feet ahead.

_A silver Lexus. Not bad, I guess._

His smile disappeared once he realized who the car belonged to.

_Ivan. What's he doing over here? Those Orchestra pansies don't have marching practice._

Alfred squinted, only then coming to another realization.

_He's lost. After dark. In the middle of nowhere._

A smug voice in Alfred's head told him to just leave.

_Commie says that I don't care about anyone other than myself. For the record, that's totally not true! But if he thinks it's true, then maybe I should just let him believe it._

A kinder, more sensible, voice told him otherwise.

_Don't be dumb. I'm not heartless, or anything. I should just be the better person. Maybe I'll just give him directions or something. Then I'll leave._

Alfred decided on the latter option.

_Because that's what heroes do._

_And I'm the hero._

_Right?_

Alfred approached the Lexus, noticing the thinly veiled distressed look on Ivan's face.

He rolled down his window. "Hey, dude! What are you doing out here?"

Ivan frowned, looking like he wanted to ignore Alfred. "None of your business."

Alfred raised one eyebrow. "I guess you're right," he said. "If it's none of my business, I should just drive away now." He revved the engine in an exaggerated manner.

Ivan threw the door open in an act of desperation. "Wait!"

Alfred smirked discreetly. "Do you _need_ anything?"

Ivan shot him a cold glare. " _Да._ I need directions."

The smirk flared into a mischievous grin. "Really? I think you're missing one thing, though…"

Ivan looked like he was moments away from erupting. Surprisingly enough, he didn't.

_I have to admit, he does have pretty good self-control._

_For a commie, anyway._

"Fine." The Russian gritted his teeth. " _Please_ give me directions."

The game was growing boring, and Alfred wasn't so keen on drawing it out any longer. So he replied, saying, "Alright."

Alfred pointed North. "Keep going straight. That's the way you came, I think," he described. "Then, turn left on the fifty-five. You'll reach another intersection if you continue. Turn right." Alfred moved his hand towards the window, ready to roll it up again. "If you do all that, you'll reach W Academy. I'm pretty sure you know how to get home from there."

Ivan nodded curtly and rolled up his own window.

 _He didn't even say thank you! How rude!  
_ Ivan pressed down on the gas pedal.

The car didn't move.

His violet eyes darted towards the meter on the far end of the dashboard.

He was out of gas.

* * *

**NOTES:**

_Дерьмо_ (Russian): Shit

 _Merde_ (French): Shit

 _Да_ (Russian): Yes

The "alliance" that Ivan mentions is referring to the Allied Powers during World War II. I would assume it wasn't a very comfortable one.

W Academy is just a shortened name for World Academy

A pep rally is a meeting/gathering aimed at inspiring enthusiasm. These are oftentimes held before sporting events, where the marching band plays.

Speaking of marching band, the formation Mr. Edelstein wants the students to practice is a marching routine used during halftime shows (or in this case, the pep rally.)

Thank you for reading! I apologize for my updates being a little less consistant. I'm getting a little busy with school and other matters.


	14. Sacrifice

_And I thought this day couldn't get any worse._

Ivan stared at the car's gas meter. It was down to zero. Empty.

_How did I not notice that? If I would have just stopped at a gas station on the way, I wouldn't even be here right now._

He pressed the gas pedal once again in a last-ditch attempt to leave.

_Nope. Still empty, no matter how you slice it._

Alfred rolled down his window once again, looking slightly impatient. "Dude, what happened?"

 _Isn't it obvious?_ Ivan gestured to the meter. "What do you think?"

Alfred frowned. "No need to be so snappy," he huffed. "Do you have a spare tank in the back?"

Ivan thought for a few seconds and then shook his head. "Нет. Was I supposed to?"

Alfred smirked. "And you say _I'm_ the stupid one." He threw his head back in a loud chuckle. "Of course, dude! You gotta be prepared!"

Ivan's body tensed. He gripped his trusty metal pipe, still concealed in his shirt. _I wonder if Alfred would be prepared to pay hospital bills._

Alfred took notice of Ivan's body language and immediately ceased his teasing. He held his hands up in an 'I surrender' motion. "Whoa, calm down!" Alfred threw open his door and hopped out. "If you really need it, I can lend you mine." The smirk reappeared. "But then you'll owe me."

Ivan followed suit, but opened his own door more carefully. "Fine," he managed to say.

_Imagine if anybody saw me like this. Accepting help from that diabetic, loud-mouthed, moron._

He shuddered.

_I don't want to think about it._

Meanwhile, Alfred was standing at the back of his Chrysler. He flipped the latch and lifted the trunk's door.

"Shit," Alfred muttered. It was only then when he remembered that he already used up his spare gas about a month ago.

Ivan peered over Alfred's shoulder. "What is it?" To him, it appeared that the container was right in front of him. He didn't know that it was completely empty, though.

Alfred laughed nervously. "N-nothing! It's not important at all," he lied.

Ivan raised one eyebrow incredulously. "Alfred, you are a terrible liar."

Alfred sighed. "Okay, okay. This thing," He slapped the tank, "Is completely empty. Sorry, dude."

_As expected._

_I should have seen that one coming._

"Classic Alfred. But now what?"

Alfred furrowed his eyebrows. "Uh…" He drummed his fingers against the car's shiny red surface. After a few moments, a spark of realization appeared in his bright blue eyes.

_I suppose he does have a certain appeal to him when he just keeps his mouth shut._

"Well, there is one option… but I don't think you would like it very much," Alfred said.

"An option is still an option, _Да_?"

Alfred looked to the ground, shadows falling onto his face. "Um, I…"

_What happened? I've never seen Alfred so anxious before. Was it something I said?_

_Or was it just my presence alone?_

Alfred cleared his throat. "I guess I could drive you back to my place to get another can of gas. Y-you know, if you're down…"

Ivan was surprised. But somehow, it was pleasantly so.

_Is he really willing to do all of that for me? Aren't we supposed to hate each other?_

_He wants Tolys. I hold the same desire. Isn't that supposed to make us enemies?_

_Then why is he so trusting? Almost like a small child._

He looked into those glittering cerulean eyes once again.

His heart fluttered.

_What is this? I used to think I had Alfred completely figured out._

_Children are very easy to read._

_But maybe…_

Ivan smiled.

_I was wrong about him._

"Thank you, Alfred."

Alfred looked stunned, as if he had never expected to ever hear those particular words coming from Ivan's mouth.

The words were slightly foreign. Especially when put together into this context.

"No problem." Alfred pulled the passenger seat's door open. "After you, dude!"

┏━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┓

It was pretty late. Yet, Feliciano was still there. The field was almost deserted, save for a few disgruntled students and Mr. Edelstein.

Technically Feliciano wasn't even required to be there. He _could_ have been on his way home.

But he wasn't.

"Feli! Hurry up, already! I'm getting really tired, dammit!" Lovino yelled.

"Just a few more minutes, _fratello_!" Feliciano loaded another snare drum into the back of the truck.

Lovino grumbled something inaudible and stalked away.

Feliciano turned to face the person next to him. "Ve~ Luddy, is that everything?"

Ludwig nodded in affirmation, though it was hard to see in the dim light of the trailer. " _Ja._ Matthias has the quads, so that's everything."

Matthias, who was just entering, flashed the pair a grin and a thumbs up. "Almost done! Lukas, you've got the accessories, right?"

The Norwegian placed a large, red, container in the corner of the trailer. "Mhmm. I have to go now. Bye."

Feliciano and Matthias waved enthusiastically.

Ludwig felt a wave of gratefulness wash over him. Feliciano wasn't even in the percussion section. Nevertheless, he was kind enough to help load all of the equipment back into the truck.

_I'm lucky to have him. He's so…_

Feliciano's curl bobbed up and down as he bent over to shift some of the trailer's contents.

_Cute. Especially that little curl of his. I wonder what would happen if I pulled it._

Ludwig vaguely recalled a memory from long ago.

...

_The weather was perfect. Everything seemed perfect, and not just his surroundings._

_Ludwig's knees dug into the soft earth. He turned to his right, admiring the girl sitting next to him._

_He didn't even know her name. Her older brother Lovino would call her Feli, which Ludwig assumed was a short version of Felicita or another similar name._

_Feli had short, auburn, hair, and one curl that would always stick out. She would never open her eyes, for reasons unknown._

_Lovino seemed incredibly protective of her. He would oftentimes yell at Ludwig when he was with Feli, shouting something along the lines of "Leave mio fratello alone, jerk bastard!"_

_Ludwig didn't know Italian. Somehow, he had never been able to put two and two together._

_Feli loved flowers. Currently, she was fixated on one blossom in particular. A delicate Peony, colored a nice shade of pastel pink._

_She plucked the flower from the ground and held it so Ludwig could see. "Look! This pretty flower can represent the love between us!"_

_Ludwig's cheeks flushed pink, mirroring the color of the flower in front of him._

_**Love? She must be mistaken! You can't fall in love that easily… maybe she just likes me as a friend!** _

_He could feel the all-too-familiar feeling in his bones. Quickened heartbeat, rosy complexion, and dilated pupils. The all-too-familiar, yet unfamiliar feeling of love._

_Hell, if it wasn't_ _ **love**_ _, it was at least_ _**like**_ _._

" _I-it's a pretty flower…" Ludwig stuttered, digressing from the topic ever so slightly._

_Feli grinned and nodded. "Si!"_

_Ludwig opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by a distressed shout coming from the far end of the field._

_Feli looked worried, and rightfully so._

_The cry was Lovino's._

_Ludwig thought it sounded rather strange, though. The yell wasn't rooted in pain or fear._

_It sounded kind of like…_

_Arousal?_

_Ludwig shook his head quickly. How could he be having such thoughts?_

_He squinted his pale blue eyes, noticing Lovino's tomato-red face._

_Sitting next to him was Gilbert, wearing a sheepish facial expression._

_**What did mein bruder do, this time?** _

_Ludwig asked Feli if she knew._

_Feli tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Hm… I think Gilbert might have pulled on my fratello's curl," she answered._

_**So that's what happens when you pull on them…** _

_**Does that mean….** _

_Ludwig took notice of Feli's curl once again._

_**No! I won't do it!** _

_**But…** _

_The sound of Feli's warm chuckle filled the air._

_**Maybe someday I should try.** _

…

_Mein gott! How could I not have known! Once Feliciano hit puberty, he didn't look like a girl anymore. I didn't even recognize him! He probably thought I forgot about him or something…_

Even the idea of it gave Ludwig a headache.

"H-hey… Feliciano…" Ludwig's voice felt shaky and wavering. That wasn't the impression that he wanted to make. Feliciano was already turbulent as it was, he needed somebody he could rely on. Somebody strong, somebody special.

"Yes?" the Italian replied. He wasn't paying a lot of attention at the moment, for he was busy helping Matthias disassemble a ride cymbal stand.

Suddenly, (and certainly unintentionally), Ludwig's gaze moved lower.

To Feliciano's… backside, to be more specific.

_Agh, what is wrong with me!_

_Look away, look away! I'm not a pervert!_

Ludwig averted his eyes, paying an unusual amount of attention to a drumstick that was haphazardly thrown to the floor.

Feliciano stood upright and faced Ludwig. "What was it that you wanted to say?"

Through the corner of his peripheral vision, Ludwig could see Matthias making teasingly suggestive facial features. Ludwig shot Matthias a glare for good measure before redirecting his attention to Feliciano.

" _Nichts_ , it doesn't matter," he lied. Through the trailer's open entrance, Ludwig could see the endless stretch of night. "It's getting late, we should go home now."

Feliciano frowned. "Luddy, I think there's something you aren't telling me." He moved his lips to Ludwig's ear and whispered, "You love me, right?"

Those words were too much for Ludwig. Too much childlike innocence, too much trust. He almost felt as if he didn't even deserve to be hearing them. "Yes, Feli," Ludwig said, deciding that the nickname would be put to good use in intimate moments like this. " _Ich liebe dich._ But what I have to ask… I don't know if I'm ready yet."

_I don't know if_ _**we're** _ _ready yet._

Feliciano's frown deepened. Ludwig's heart felt like it was ripped from his body. "But Luddy… when will you be ready? Never?" He started walking towards the trailer's entrance. Instead of exiting, Feliciano decided to sit on the edge.

Ludwig couldn't bear to just _leave_ Feliciano like that. So he stayed.

Despite Mr. Edelstein's complaints to just " _Go home, already!_ ", Ludwig stayed.

_I would stay with Feliciano forever if I could._

"You're right," said Ludwig. "I don't think I'll ever be ready."

_**But I can't keep holding my breath like this.** _

_**It's either now or never.** _

_**Now or never.** _

_**Now. I choose now.** _

"I am going to ask you something, Feli. Promise me-" Ludwig shook his head. " _Nein_ , swear to me that you'll reply honestly."

Feliciano nodded eagerly.

Ludwig took a deep breath and reached into his pocket.

The tomato ring. He had gone to the jeweler and had it especially made.

It wasn't particularly cheap, but to be fair, nothing truly valuable is inexpensive.

There's always a price to pay; a sacrifice to make.

_But if you love someone that much…_

Ludwig just then noticed how _beautiful_ Feliciano was. He always thought the Italian was cute, but apparently, there was more to it.

_You're willing to make that sacrifice._

_I am willing to make that sacrifice._

Ludwig pulled the tomato-shaped ring out of his pocket and took Feliciano's hand in his.

Carefully, Ludwig slid the ring onto Feliciano's left index finger.

Feliciano looked from the ring to Ludwig's face in surprise. "Ludwig?"

"Feliciano, do you want to go to the Homecoming dance with me?"

Feliciano smiled. "Ve~ of course, I do!"

Ludwig at least had _some_ closure. But this was only half the battle. There was a much harder question that still remained lodged in the back of Ludwig's throat; aching to escape.

" _Das ist gut_. But there's something else I need to ask…"

Feliciano's eyelids fluttered open, revealing wide, amber, orbs. "Go on," he murmured quietly.

_**Either now or never.** _

"Feliciano Vargas, will you be my boyfriend?"

┏━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┓

Gilbert had been waiting for his younger brother for a while, now.

_How un-awesome of him. At least I have somebody to keep me company!_

"Gilbert, this is taking too long. I think I'll just call a taxi or something." Elizabeta looked just as impatient as him, if not more so.

"Aw, come on, Liz! Just a few more minutes, that's all!" Gilbert assured, even though he wasn't very sure of himself in the first place.

Elizabeta rolled her eyes and focused her attention on the window. Through the fingerprinted glass window of Gilbert's Volkswagen, she could make out the faint silhouette of a person about 10 feet away.

"Gil, Ludwig's here," Elizabeta reported.

Gilbert sighed in relief. "Finally!" He shoved Elizabeta aside so he could see. His face immediately lit up. "Hey, Ita-chan is with him, too!"

Now, Elizabeta was interested. She used to take care of Feliciano when he was younger on the occasions that Grandpa Rome couldn't, and they had developed a friendly bond since then. "Oh, how interesting! Does he need a ride?"

Gilbert shrugged. "Eh, probably. But that means that his sour older brother is coming along, too."

Sure enough, Lovino was right behind the pair. He looked very upset at Feliciano's newfound admiration for Ludwig (or, the stupid potato-eating bastard, as he liked to say.) Nevertheless, it was late, and he needed to get back home. So he bit his tongue and let it happen.

Gilbert swung the door open to greet them. "Took you long enough, _bruder_! Also, hello there, Ita-chan!"

" _Ciao!_ I hope you don't mind the extra people."

Gilbert shook his head. "Nah, of course not!" He said nonchalantly. "The more the merrier, right?"

Elizabeta nodded in agreement.

As soon as she took notice of the tomato-shaped ring on Feliciano's finger, she felt a rush of excitement and pride wash over her. "Congratulations, you two!"

* * *

**NOTES:**

"Feli" (who Ludwig assumes to be a girl before) is Chibitalia.

The quads are a set of four tenor drums used in Marching band.

Percussion accessories (also known as Auxiliary percussion) include things like the triangle, tambourine, wind chimes, etc.

All of the marching equipment is loaded into a trailer for the purpose of transportability between football games, practices, and other events.

The tomato ring has made another appearance, yet again.

 _Das ist gut_ (German): That's good

 _Nichts_ (German): Nothing

I decided to give Hungary and Prussia a cameo in this chapter. In the future, they might have their own arc. _Might._

Peonies are beautiful pink flowers. They represent love, good luck, and wealth if I'm not mistaken. So yes, this detail was intentional.

Thanks for reading!


	15. Contrary

Natalya searched the entire house from top to bottom. While she did accidentally walk in on her older sister Katyusha in the shower, she did not find Ivan. The only person she was looking for.

_**Why is this time different from all the other times?** _

She wasn't going to stalk him. She wasn't going to ask him to marry her. She didn't even _want_ to talk to him all that much, let alone _marry_ him.

She was angry. She wanted vengeance, but not for herself.

For Tolys.

_**That's why.** _

_**This is different.** _

Ivan had fled the house. Natalya was more than just frustrated; she was plain livid.

_How dare he do this to Tolys? That poor, obedient, little puppy. Subjected to all of that…_

The image of Tolys in the maid uniform flashed into her mind. Natalya felt sick.

_Why do I care so much about him anyway? It's not like…_

A furious blush spread across her cheeks. It left as soon as it came.

_I don't like him! I just feel bad for him, that's all._

_**Pity. That's all it is.** _

In the midst of her fury-fueled search, Natalya remembered that Katyusha wasn't the only other person in the house.

_Дзярмо. I completely forgot that Tolys was still here._

She glanced at the grandfather clock at the end of the hallway. It read that the time was 7:13 in the evening.

_Well, it is kind of late. He may have already gone home by now._

Natalya remembered something else.

_That's impossible! Tolys doesn't have a car. He must have taken the bus or something._

_It's dangerous to use public transportation after dark, though. There are some psychos and creeps lurking around, and god knows what their intentions are._

_People like Ivan._

A bitter taste filled Natalya's mouth.

_I don't even know where he went. The garage was empty; he must have taken big sister's car._

An idea popped into her mind.

_I'll just track his phone. The GPS on there will let me see where he is._

The idea was quickly shut down.

_What good would that even do me? I don't really care all too much._

_I could just wait until tomorrow to confront him about it. Or until later tonight. He should be back by then, right?_

"N-Natalya?" Tolys's face was flushed; partially from trying to catch up with Natalya, and partially from embarrassment. "I tried looking for my shirt in Ivan's room… it wasn't there anymore," Tolys said in an almost-whisper.

Natalya cleared her throat. "Right. Um…" She tried to compile her thoughts together into words, but was preoccupied with what was standing just a few inches in front of her.

_I didn't know he had so much muscle… he looks so wiry._

Tolys noticed her staring and instinctively tried covering himself. The attempt was in vain, naturally. Not knowing what else to do, he nervously shifted his weight from one leg to the other.

Natalya snapped out of her muscle-induced trance. "Katyusha may have accidentally put your shirt in with the laundry. Do you mind waiting until it's finished?" She posed this as a question, but in actuality, she really wanted Tolys to stay. For at least a little longer.

As much as she didn't want to admit it, she really did enjoy his company. It was a nice change of scene from her usual life. Nobody was brave (or stupid) enough to try conversing with her. Granted, Tolys wasn't either. Not until not, that was.

"No, not at all," Tolys replied.

Natalya nodded. "Mhmm." She gestured to the last door in the hall. "We can go back to my room, if you like."

_God, why am I acting like a docile housewife all of a sudden? It must be his fault!_

Her indigo eyes flew over to Tolys's left hand. The bandaged had come off, but the fingers looked stiff and somewhat swollen. Natalya cringed, knowing full well that it was her own doing.

_Right. Because I wanted to apologize. Or at least something along the lines of that._

"Okay. And, by the way, Natalya," Tolys started. "I wanted to thank you. For doing this for me. It.. it means a lot, you know?"

A ghost of a smile made its way onto Natalya's usually serious features. "It's the least I could do."

Tolys's soft grin told Natalya one thing. One thing that she wanted to hear **so** badly ever since the week prior.

_**Apology accepted.** _

┏━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┓

Alfred drove in silence. He didn't even bother turning the radio on, oddly enough. He felt like a taxi driver, more than anything in that moment.

Because Ivan was sitting in the seat right next to him.

It seemed like a rather comical situation. Two rivals that had absolutely despised each other, taking any opportunity to fight;

It was a change, to say the least.

Ivan could sense the thick, unspoken, tension in the air, too. He couldn't quite see Alfred's face (it was much too dark,) but somehow, he could make out two blue orbs.

Alfred's eyes. They were practically luminescent in the unlit car. So much so that Ivan couldn't even ignore them.

_No! Alfred wants to have Tolys for himself, and I can't let that happen. I will not get friendly with him._

Every so often at a red light, Alfred would look over at Ivan, his facial expression unreadable. Ivan pretended like he didn't notice these stolen glances, partially because he himself didn't understand the intent behind them either.

The night carried on, as did the ride. It was taking a surprisingly long time to get to Alfred's house, and the uncomfortable silence made it feel even longer.

Ivan decided to have the first word.

"So, Alfred. What do you think about Tolys?"

Alfred was taken aback. Ivan did have a tendency to cut straight to the point. "Isn't it obvious?" he scoffed. "Besides, what's it mean to _you?_ "

The rivalry was back once again. It was clear that the two weren't friends. Far from it, actually.

Ivan maintained a neutral facade. "I was simply curious. What was that name you called him again…." He rolled his eyes to the ceiling, imitating pensive thought. " _Liet_? Ah, yes. You seem to want something from him, Alfred. I know it."

Something flickered in those bright blue eyes. Something like… anger? Frustration?

_Only God knows._

Alfred narrowed his eyebrows. "So what? Listen, commie," He looked at Ivan for a brief moment defensively. "I am in love with Tolys Laurinaitis."

_No shit. We all saw that one coming._

The insults were back, too. Ivan had been degraded to 'commie' once more.

Ivan chuckled humourlessly. "I could tell. I do not care about your feelings for Tolys. But let me tell you something." He lifted his lips into a creepy, childlike, smile. One that was reserved for people Ivan needed to get rid of. "Tolys is mine. You may confess to him, you may ask him out to the dance this week, but he will be mine."

_**Mine.** _

_**Forever and always.** _

Alfred tried hard to hide his nervousness. And failed.

"Whatever. I'll have him before you even get the chance. I'm _going_ to do it, Ivan," insisted Alfred. He smirked. "And I'll have _you_ know that I can get him to be with me on his own accord."

Ivan sneered. "What makes you so confident about _that_ , hm? Unless you have some magical ace up your sleeve, I don't believe you."

_Really, I'm the one with the ace._

_I have a plan. I have a plan to make Tolys mine. Nobody else's._

_**Mine. Forever and always.** _

_And once I play it…_

_Well, the cards will all fold._

_For Alfred, that is._

Alfred didn't even look the slightest bit intimidated by this. "I'm smarter than you might think. Plus," He leaned in closer until their faces were mere centimeters apart. The tension and animosity were much too high for the moment to be considered romantic, though.

Ivan couldn't help but notice something else.

_His lips._

_If I leaned any closer… I would taste those lips._

_A rosy shade of pink._

He made eye contact with Alfred.

_Pink and blue._

_A perfect match? We'll have to see about that._

"You're not the only one with a plan, Ivan."

The traffic light glowed bright red in the dark.

_Pink and blue and red._

Three colors swam through Ivan's vision, making everything else seem dull in comparison.

Alfred caught himself in time. He immediately moved back, averting his eyes to the road.

_What was that?_

Ivan looked back at the American in the seat right next to him. Apparently, his suspicions were proved correct.

He found himself getting lost in two endless puddles of blue.

_I really was wrong about him._

┏━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┓

Lovino was growing more and more annoyed by the second.

_I'm in this stupid potato bastard's car, sitting next to another potato bastard!_

He shot Ludwig a sideways glare.

Ludwig looked absolutely smitten with Feliciano, who seemed to reciprocate these feelings.

To make matters worse, Feliciano was _sitting on Ludwig's lap_!

There were only two seats in the back of Gilbert's car, so it was decided that improvisation had to be made. Much to Lovino's anger, Feliciano had actually _volunteered_ to sit there!

The younger Italian seemed blissfully ignorant of Lovino's glares and curses and continued to chat with Ludwig. It was just basic small-talk, but Lovino couldn't help but overhear.

"Ve, do you have an outfit ready yet?" Feliciano asked.

" _Nein._ I suppose I probably should have one by the end of the week," replied Ludwig.

_They're talking about that stupid homecoming dance._

Lovino was instantly reminded about his own romantic situation. More specifically, a certain Spanish boy. His face was tomato-red in an instant, very closely resembling the fruit sculpted on Feliciano's ring.

_Shit. I never gave Antonio an answer about the dance. How long has it been? A week? What if he's already forgotten about me and decided to just ask some pretty girl instead?_

Lovino didn't want to admit it, but the possibility seemed very much realistic. Antonio (along with both Francis and Gilbert) was quite popular amongst the girls at World Academy. It wouldn't be an overstatement to say that half of them had already asked Antonio out before.

_Damnit! I bet that is what happened! I blew my chance with him…_

_Again._

_And he gave it to me on a silver platter. How pathetic is that?_

Lovino took notice that Feliciano's and Ludwig's lips were _awfully_ close. Elizabeta was holding a camera (similar to the one Kiku owned) with a tissue pressed to her nose to prevent blood from leaking.

_Am I jealous of them?_

Lovino thought back to that evening back in Feliciano's room. That very evening when he walked in on his younger brother and Ludwig kissing. It didn't even look like a chaste peck, it was something much more than that.

_Antonio visited the house that evening._

Lovino felt a stab of guilt for tossing the tomato at Ludwig's face.

_He spends a lot of time growing those. I would know more than anybody else._

Lovino recalled the days he would spend in Antonio's garden, tending to the beautiful, succulent, tomatoes.

So _red._ So _full._

Suddenly, he felt a craving sensation conquer his brain.

_I want one. Those juicy tomatoes… I want one._

But more than anything, he wanted Antonio.

_Toni… you deserve better than me. You deserve someone nicer._

Feliciano's tomato ring was the only thing Lovino could focus on. It was almost taunting him, in a way.

Reminding him of what _could_ have been.

What _should_ have been.

_**Here's something you want.** _

_**Can you see it?** _

_**Can you feel it?** _

_**Can you taste it?** _

_**You want it, right?** _

_**Good.** _

_**Now let's rip it away from you.** _

_Stupid tomatoes. Stupid Antonio. Stupid romance._

_How do they make it work so well?_

"Hey, West!" Gilbert yelled from the driver's seat. "Do you know Ita-chan's address?"

"I do!" Elizabeta piped up. "2238 Valentino street." She pointed out the window. "I think it's the last one on this side..."

Gilbert grinned mischievously. "Kesesesese… I'll write that one down for later…" He winked at Feliciano (who dutifully ignored him.) Ludwig looked mildly annoyed and tightened his hold on Feliciano ever so slightly.

Elizabeta groaned, realizing that she probably made a mistake. "Gilbert, violence is not prohibited outside of school grounds, need I remind you," she said. "Unless you want to end up with another frying pan concussion, I suggest you shut your mouth."

Gilbert quieted down, but not before letting out a few playful chuckles. "Whatever you say!"

Lovino rolled his eyes and cradled his head in his hands.

_I'm starting to really get sick of these people. Potato number two might be even more obnoxious than potato number one._

A few minutes later, the car pulled up to a familiar-looking house.

"We're here!" Gilbert left his seat and rushed to the back, holding open the door. "Have a nice night, gentlemen," he said, imitating a chauffeur.

Ludwig awkwardly let go of Feliciano, allowing him to slide off his lap. "Uh… _Auf Wiedersehen_ , Feliciano. _Gute Nacht_." He leaned a little closer and whispered something into Feliciano's ear, something that Lovino wasn't close enough to hear.

Whatever it was, it must have been something good. Feliciano smiled, a soft pink blush tinting his face, much different from the bright red that Lovino oftentimes sported. " _Ciao,_ Luddy." Mirroring Ludwig's actions, Feliciano leaned in closer and whispered something additional.

"Tch. So much sentimental nonsense," grumbled Lovino under his breath once inside the house.

Feliciano put his saxophone case near his brother's. "What's the matter with you, Lovi? You seem kind of upset."

Lovino's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

_When did my stupid brother learn to read the mood? I bet the Japanese kid taught him a thing or two._

Nevertheless, Lovino wasn't quite ready to spill his guts out to his younger brother. "I'm fine, dammit."

Lovino's eyes subconsciously found their way to the ring Feliciano's middle finger for what felt like the 100th time that night.

Feliciano took notice. He looked from Lovino to his own hand, and then back again. "Is this about Antonio?"

_We've been down his road before._

_No matter. I just have to do what I always do._

_Deny, deny, deny._

But he couldn't. Whatever generic rehash of "I'm fine" that was about to leave Lovino's mouth got stuck.

His throat felt choked up, and his vision blurred.

"Y-yes, damnmit..." Lovino managed to say.

Feliciano's lips pulled into a worry-filled frown. "What happened, _fratello_? Did he hurt you?" He gestured for Lovino to take a seat in the living room, which he gladly did.

Lovino shook his head slowly. "No…"

_**Quite the contrary, actually.** _

"Feli… I think _I_ hurt _him_."

* * *

**NOTES:**

_Дзярмо_ (Belarusian): Shit

 _Auf Wiedersehen_ (German): Goodbye

 _Gute Nacht_ (German): Goodnight

I believe Prussia canonically has feelings for North Italy. This may show up a few times in the story, to give you a heads up.

You may or may not be wondering what pairings are included here. Honestly, I'd rather not give it to you straight as that would just be pretty boring. Try figuring it out based on what you've already read so far. If you want hints, feel free to PM me. I want to make this as engaging as possible!

= I would really appreciate it if you'd comment. Seeing people enjoy my work and receiving constructive criticism is something I look forward to. Just a suggestion :)


	16. Proprietary

"Here we are. Home, sweet, home." Alfred pulled up his car in front of a large, average-looking house.

"I see. So, this is where you live?" Ivan reached for the door handle tentatively.

Alfred shrugged. "Yeah. You got a problem with that?"

_Strange. I always seem to have a problem with Alfred. Perhaps it's because he's so fun to pick arguments with._

_Because I always end up winning them._

Ivan shook his head, opting for a more silent approach. One that wouldn't stir their already precarious current relations.

Alfred handed Ivan a key ring. "It's the smallest one," he said.

Ivan raised an eyebrow. "You aren't coming in?"

"Nah. Remember the reason you're here?" Alfred pointed his right thumb to the shelf full of emergency supplies in the corner of the garage. "Go on. It won't be a while."

_He's being awfully hospitable. I wonder… did he treat Tolys the same way?_

Ivan's heart felt like a heavy stone, keeping his body bound to the earth.

_Most likely._

Tolys had been living with Alfred for a few months. About half a year, actually.

And it would have probably been even longer if Ivan hadn't intervened. He could still remember the day he came to Alfred's place to pick Tolys up.

Ivan didn't pay much attention to the house's interior that day. That really wasn't his intent. The only reason he was there was for Tolys, and Tolys alone.

_**He is my property, after all.** _

_But Alfred didn't care. To his credit, he did put up a pretty tough fight when I tried taking Tolys away from him._

_A fight that I won._

_Because I always end up winning them._

Ivan slowly inserted the key into the hole and twisted. The door came open without even the slightest _creak_.

Entering the house itself was rather anticlimactic. Alfred's place looked just like it could belong to any highschool boy.

_At least it's clean. I can give him that if nothing else._

An empty soda can laying near the couch appeared in Ivan's line of vision.

_Well, maybe not._

Ivan could faintly make out the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs. The person stopped at the bottom of the stairwell and stared at the unexpected guest for a few moments.

"Eh? Al didn't tell me we were having visitors." Matthew stared at Ivan for a second before approaching him.

Ivan could have sworn he was a glint of _something_ in Matthew's lavender eyes. Malice, perhaps?

"Hello. You are Alfred's brother, yes?"

Matthew nodded, his mouth set in a firm line. "Mhmm. I don't know what you're doing here, but if you hurt him…" He tilted his head towards the garage door, where Alfred presumably was. "Things won't end well for you."

Ivan was at a loss for words. Evidently, there was a side to both brothers that he never knew.

_I really did underestimate them before._

_I suppose Matthew does have a right to be at least a little wary of me._

_I could defeat those two in physical combat. Effortlessly._

_Still, that's no excuse to let my guard down._

Matthew stared at him for some time, trying to read Ivan's facial expression.

_Jokes on him. Lying is second nature to me._

_Not that I really need it now. I can just tell the truth._

Ivan smiled childishly. "I see. You do not have to worry about me, comrade. I am only here because Alfred _wanted_ to help me."

Matthew raised an eyebrow inquisitively. He looked as though he still had many more questions.

Suddenly, the malice in those lavender eyes disappeared without a trace.

_Why?_

Ivan turned around, following Matthew's gaze. Alfred was back, with a gallon of gas in his right hand and a confused expression on his face.

"Matt? Why didn't you come to marching practice? Mr. Edelstein got kind of annoyed."

Matthew sighed in exasperation. "I was _going_ to. But then you forgot I was there and just left the house without me."

Alfred frowned. "Couldn't you have called an uber or something?"

The Canadian rolled his eyes. "I _could_ have. If I wasn't _broke_ , that is. I blew my last dollar on buying you that scratch ticket back at the gas station last night!"

Alfred looked kind of embarrassed and chuckled nervously. "Oh, right. Forgot about that. Sorry, dude." He turned to face Ivan. "I can trust that you didn't _do_ anything in my absence, right?"

There they were. Those two endless oceans, overflowing with both conviction and suspicion.

_He doesn't even try to hide his feelings. How strange._

"I'm not heartless, Alfred."

Alfred narrowed his eyebrows, looking like he begged to differ. "Yeah? Maybe if you had something in _there_ ," He poked the left side of Ivan's chest. "Tolys wouldn't be scared shitless every time you were in the same room as him."

Although the action was supposed to be condescending, Ivan felt a strange emotion when Alfred touched him.

_He's right. It's my fault that Tolys is scared of me._

_**Nobody else's.** _

_But I'm not going to say that. I will never say that._

_I have pride. Maybe not an ego like Alfred's, but nevertheless…_

Ivan snapped out of his daze and looked down at the American. He was a few inches taller, after all. He might as well use it to his advantage.

"This discussion is over," Ivan said with harsh finality.

Alfred clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth, the sound resonating through the living room. "Are you forgetting whose house you're in, commie?" He smirked, glad that Ivan couldn't find a decent response. "I get to decide when the discussions are over."

Matthew watched the pair glare at each other, feeling the tension rising in the air. It was practically suffocating, and he knew that it was only the beginning. "Guys, I think there's a better way to sort this out…"

Matthew's pleas were drowned out by the sound of Ivan's scoff.

"Even so, you are still forgetting something." Ivan grinned menacingly. "I will always have the upper hand when it comes to combat."

Alfred's thinly veiled terror flickered briefly through his eyes. "You talk a big game for someone who can't even make a single friend."

The jab hurt. As it was supposed to.

_And he's right. Again._

"At least I know how to _think_ before I talk," countered Ivan.

Matthew backed up slowly, praying to every single god he could think of that the fight wouldn't get physical. "No, no, no- this isn't happening," he muttered to himself.

Alfred scowled and crossed his arms over his chest. "So you _do_ want to fight, don't you?"

Ivan nodded in affirmation. "I would want nothing more but to kick your ass one more time."

Before anybody could even throw the first punch, the lights flickered off.

And then back on again.

This repeated a few more times before everything was plunged into darkness.

┏━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┓

Tolys felt strangely out of place. The guest bedroom at Natalya's house was large, and the king-sized bed he was sitting on was comfortable.

As he dangled his legs off the side of the bed, he couldn't help but feel so alone. Every single moment of the day, he would typically be constantly surrounded by people. Finally, he was getting a moment of peace.

Yet he was having a hard time figuring out whether he actually enjoyed the solidarity or not.

_Isn't this just the calm before the storm? Does that mean something bad is going to happen?_

Tolys buried his head in his hands.

_Oh, god. I'm just worrying about nothing, again. There must be something that can distract me._

Suddenly, the rumble of thunder shook the house. A bolt of lightning struck through the night sky, visible through the large window on the far end of the guest room.

Apparently, there _was_ something to distract him.

A thunderstorm.

Realization seeped into Tolys's bones.

_I'm not going to be able to leave until the storm passes._

A loud knock on the door snapped him out of his thoughts.  
"Come in!"

The door opened, revealing Katyusha standing with concern written all over her face. "Did you hear that, Tolys?"

Tolys glanced back at the window. Another round of thunder and lightning ensued. It was a miracle that the power didn't cut out. "Yes. By any chance, do you know how long this storm will last?"

Katyusha nodded slowly. "Unfortunately so. The forecast says it will be gone by around 6:00 AM. That is what I came here to tell you, actually."

"So, that means…" Tolys knew full well what he was implying, but he didn't complete his sentence for the fear that he would sound too eager.

Katyusha nodded again. "You'll have to stay the night. I hope this room is okay." She glanced around the vast space, searching for anything that would show otherwise.

Tolys smiled. "No, it's all wonderful. But, uh, there's one more thing…" He looked down at his bare chest and chuckled awkwardly.

Katyusha didn't look too bothered. "Oh, right! Your shirt is still in the laundry room. I will go get it for you, okay?"

And with that, she was gone.

Tolys sighed and stared at the polished hardwood floor longingly. Spending the night at Natalya's house was something that sounded exciting, but really, Tolys just wanted to go back home. He was tired, and more than that, nervous. Natalya and her newly harbored animosity towards Ivan would certainly be expressed, whether it be physically or otherwise.

And of course, Tolys would be caught right in the middle of it.

_I guess if I am here, I should just take advantage of it._

Tolys had been to that particular house countless times before. Each time, he was always there as a worker or servant of some sort.

_Cleaning, making coffee, or…_

He reached back to touch one of the scars on his back and winced from the pain.

_Other business._

It always had to involve Ivan, didn't it?

But now, he felt like a guest.

_Might as well live up to it._

Tolys stood up from the bed and smoothed out the pristine white covers.

He crossed the room to find another door, this one leading to the conjoined bathroom. Tolys turned the doorknob and entered.

In an instant, Tolys felt a spark of familiarity in his mind. He had cleaned this area before.

_Then why didn't I recognize the bedroom?_

The interior paint had changed. Now, it was a very light shade of Periwinkle, matching the other room far better than the dark Maroon ever could.

Tolys reached his hand toward the doorknob and twisted the lock carefully.

He removed the rest of his clothes in a hurry, wanting to finish showering as soon as possible.

_That way, the odds of somebody walking in would be smaller!_

Forest-green eyes darted towards the locked door.

_With that, any chances of total embarrassment will be practically impossible!_

_In all of those cheesy romance novels, that sort of situation happens. But I'm not risking my dignity!_

Tolys thought back to everything he had to endure when he worked for Ivan. His morale was immediately diminished at the recollection.

_Not that I had much dignity in the first place._

He folded his clothes in a neat pile and placed them below the towel rack, which thankfully, wasn't bare.

Tolys slid open the shower door and cranked the knob, sighing in bliss as the warm water hit his body in small and frequent droplets.

_How long has it been since I've had time to shower like this? Months? Years?_

_Oh, hell, I don't even care right now._

His soaked brown hair began to cling to the back of the neck and sides of his face like seaweed.

_But why was Ivan interrogating me back in the living room earlier? Asking me questions about…_

_Love._

_Why does he care about who_ _**I** _ _love? I thought he hated me._

_Especially after all he has done. After what he might_ _**still** _ _be able to do._

A feeling of dread crept through his already worry-filled mind.

_He asked about Alfred, didn't he?_

_I haven't thought about him in a while, huh. I guess he_ _**is** _ _kind of attractive._

_Blonde hair, blue eyes, that blinding grin..._

_Okay, he is attractive. He's always really nice to me, too. Spending time with him,_

_I felt like I could finally relax for once. When I'm with Ivan, it's like there's something about him that makes me freeze up._

The dread was replaced by something else. Something warmer, brighter.

_Alfred is someone that everyone just_ _**wants** _ _to be around. And… I think I do too._

_We've talked a few times ever since I stopped living with him._

_And every single time, he's still so nice._

Tolys noticed the shower door's frosted glass begin to fog up.

_So does that mean…_

_Ivan is jealous?_

* * *

No notes today, folks. Hope you enjoyed this chapter.


	17. Hurt

Alfred slowly brought his clenched fist upwards, trying to appear threatening, when in reality, he was frightened beyond human comprehension. While he had never engaged in a serious physical skirmish with Ivan before, he had certainly come dangerously close more than once before. He knew that he would end up with a minor injury or two, at best. A bruised jaw or bloody nose didn't concern him too much. But what _did_ concern him was the fact that Ivan was armed.

_That damn metal pipe of his. It's like his child or something—does he ever leave the house without it?_

Alfred glanced to his right for a split second. Matthew was standing right at the entrance to the open kitchen, lavender eyes ridden with panic and confusion. Past the Canadian was the knife block, sitting near the sink.

They were all sharp and precise, but they were meant for piercing through food, not human flesh. Alfred decided against using them but silently agreed to himself that he would have to consider them if the worst came to worst.

_**Only** _ _then, though. I'm not a murderer._

Still, a sinking feeling took root in his stomach. Ivan could _definitely_ handle a slice or two from a kitchen knife. Hell, he could probably get his jugular crushed and still somehow make it out alive.

Alfred gritted his teeth, searching through Ivan's merciless eyes.

 _How could someone as cruel as him fall for someone like Tolys? Tolys is so nice, so reasonable_ — _I couldn'_ _t even imagine._

_And how does Ivan think Tolys could ever reciprocate those feelings? Some stroke of luck? Stockholm syndrome? He must be praying for a miracle._

Suddenly, the lights began to flicker. While Ivan did not break eye contact, Alfred could still notice a hint of surprise flash through those violet pools.

"Matt? Are you playing with the switch?" Alfred joked weekly, although he knew that wasn't the case.

As expected, Matthew shook his head. He sighed in relief, glad there was some distraction to break the tension. "There's a huge storm out there," Matthew said, pointing a thumb to the half-covered window. "We're lucky that the power didn't completely go out altogether."

Alfred chuckled. "Haha, right. But we probably shouldn't jinx things."

By some twisted stroke of fate, what Matthew had predicted came true. The lights shut off, replacing everything with complete blackness.

Alfred bit back a childish scream. He wasn't scared of most things. Spiders, heights, snakes—all things that didn't even come close to fazing him. But the dark… something about it pierced right through his obnoxious hero complex and into his soul.

He could hear Ivan's footsteps echoing through the room. Based on the softer volume of his voice, Alfred could deduce that he had crossed the room to look out the window.

"The whole neighborhood has also lost power," Ivan commented in monotone.

Matthew mumbled a quiet "mhmm" in confirmation and began to carefully try finding his way around. "We need flashlights. Do you have your phone on you, Al?"

"Yeah." Alfred nodded and reached into his pocket, only to find himself grasping at empty space. He laughed humourlessly.

_I left it in the car. Isn't that rich?_

"Sorry. Looks like the hero may not be as reliable as he originally stated," admitted Alfred with a sheepish grin.

Matthew simply rolled his eyes, as if he was expecting it. "So it figures. Ivan, what about you?" His voice tensed as he redirected his attention to the other person in the blacked-out room.

" _Дa._ " Ivan brought out his own phone and switched on its flashlight. The piercing white light sliced through the darkness, illuminating Ivan's face.

Alfred felt a slight sense of relief from the flashlight, even though it didn't even come close to lighting up the entire room.

The relief was short-lived, as Matthew intercepted the shining phone's light from Ivan and disappeared into the storage closet, leaving Alfred alone in an unlit room.

Well, _almost_ alone. Ivan was still there, but Alfred wasn't too keen on making small talk. They were about to beat each other into pulps, conversating casually now would seem like a joke.

Alfred bit the inside of his cheek, repeating one sentence in his head:

_You are not scared. You are not scared. You are not scared-_

This claim was smashed to bits as another boom of thunder shook the house, leaving Alfred a trembling mess.

_Thank god Ivan can't see me like this. He would have never let me live it down._

_I keep telling myself and everyone around me that I'm a hero. Heroes are never scared!_

Yet somehow, Ivan was able to point out Alfred's discomfort.  
"Is the dark not to your liking, Alfred?"

"No! Where'd you get that from?" Alfred denied instinctively.

Although he couldn't see Ivan's face, Alfred assumed a trademark childish grin was pasted on the Russian's mouth.

"I know everything, Alfred," Ivan said a matter-of-factly. "Hiding things from me is impossible."

Alfred cursed silently.

_God, why does he have to be so creepy all the time! No wonder everybody is so damn scared of him! I can't believe he even_ _**thinks** _ _he has a chance with Liet._

"Oh? Have I struck a nerve?" Ivan received no response, which was all he needed to hear.

Alfred heard more footsteps and felt a cold hand on his shoulder. His pupils dilated even further as he suppressed the urge to yell out. He slowly turned his head back, blue eyes meeting with purple. The violet looked a lot more like black in the darkness, though.

"Dude, what are you doing?" Alfred shifted uncomfortably, unsure of what else he was supposed to do.

Ivan laughed darkly. They were so close—Alfred could practically feel Ivan's breath on the back of his own neck.

"Nothing. But you have yet to answer my question." The laughing ceased, and a new expression replaced the initial off-putting one. This one was… _concerned_? The notion seemed ridiculous to Alfred. So ridiculous, in fact, that he mentally chastised himself for even considering it. "Are you scared of the dark, Alfred?"

A long silence ensued. Alfred didn't quite know how he was supposed to answer.

_If I lie, he'll just know anyways. Creepy. But if I tell the truth, he's going to just laugh. Probably tell Tolys, too, if it gets him romance points._

Throughout Alfred's panicked mess of thoughts, Ivan's hand remained on his shoulder. Most likely to prevent him from escaping.

_Not like I'd go very far. This house isn't that huge, and we're in a blackout, for god's sake._

"Well… kind of…" Alfred looked to the floor, not wanting to see Ivan's face contort into another smirk. He braced himself for the inevitable onslaught of laughter.

But it never came.

"Why?" asked Ivan, the question hanging up in the air like an unwanted presence.

_Why? Why am I scared of the dark? It sounds so stupid, doesn't it?_

Alfred felt like he wanted to crawl into a hole and hide, a feeling that felt so unfamiliar. He rarely was confronted with situations in which he was at the mercy of the other person.

"I guess I'm scared because.." He couldn't find the right words. "Because… in the dark, there could be all sorts of things ready to come for you. Like, you could be in an unlit room and there could be a crazy psycho murderer standing right behind you, ready to kill you melee style." Alfred caught sight of another strike of vivid white lightning through the window. "Maybe it's like… what I don't know might hurt me."

Somehow, it felt good to get it off his chest after keeping it to himself for so long. Even if he was spilling it to someone like Ivan.

Ivan nodded thoughtfully. "I understand. Do you want to know what I am scared of?"

Alfred raised one eyebrow.

_When did this become a confessional hour?_

He looked back to Ivan, who actually looked genuinely invested in the conversation. For once, he was taking Alfred seriously.

_Whatever. I'll humour him, for now._

"Sure," Alfred replied after a short pause.

_What_ _**is** _ _he scared of?_

_Natalya, maybe? That's no surprise._

"Being alone." Ivan stared off into the dark, a faraway look in his deep violet eyes. "You were right. I never had any friends." He lifted his hand from Alfred's shoulder and let it fall to his side. "Once I tried befriending a hamster. It didn't quite work out as well as I would have hoped."

Ignoring the small attempt at a joke at the end of Ivan's sentence, Alfred couldn't help but feel pity for the Russian.

"Not trying to be rude, but I already figured as much. I mean, you're not the most welcoming person around…" Alfred shut his mouth, realizing that his words came out a little harsher than intended.

Ivan accepted it all with a solemn nod. "I thought so. I have done some terrible things. It's no surprise, really," he said. "But I have always believed in forgiveness. Even if I show that I am no longer a monster, people still continue to treat me as one." Ivan's voice threatened to crack under the weight of his own emotions. He really didn't mind. So much was already bursting from the seams, it was only a matter of time before his constitution gave away completely.

"Hey… I really didn't know all that." A pang of guilt stabbed Alfred in the heart. The person standing in front of him was someone he had spent basically his whole life developing a hatred for. Alfred would have never imagined that he would be having a heart-to-heart with that very person. "Ivan, dude, I'm sorry for saying all that. You know, about you having no friends…"

Ivan smiled. Not an ominous grin, but a genuine smile. "I am beginning to think that you aren't an insensitive asshole."

_That should have been insulting. But somehow… it isn't?_

"Right back at you, buddy," responded Alfred jokingly.

"On a different note, do you know what is taking Matthew so long?" Ivan turned his head in the direction of the storage closet down the hall.

Alfred shrugged. "Beats me. I'm going to go check."

He spun on his heel in an attempt to begin his walk, but his foot got caught on Ivan's heel instead. Alfred began to tumble backward, grasping at anything he could use to break his fall. The first thing he happened to find was Ivan's arm.

Before he could realize what was happening, Ivan was on the floor, too.

Laying right on top of Alfred.

Matthew quickly ran out of the closet at the loud noise. "Eh? What happened-"

The Canadian looked at the ground and processed what he was seeing.

"The bedroom is that way if you need it."

┏━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┓

"Lovi… you hurt Antonio? How?" Feliciano bombarded his older brother with questions, aching to find out what had really pushed Lovino to the brink of tears.

Lovino buried his face in his hands, feeling the hot tears escape from his eyes and cascade down his flushed cheeks. "I wasn't good enough— _DAMMIT!_ I was never good enough…" His entire body trembled with sadness and frustration. All of his grievances were his own fault, and for once, he was able to openly admit it.

Feliciano shook his head and patted Lovino on the back assuringly. " _Fratello_ , you _are_ good enough! You're the best big brother I could hope for!"

Lovino removed his hands from his tear-streaked face and looked at his younger brother with red-rimmed eyes. "No, I'm not, Feli. Antonio deserves someone better than me. Someone who isn't such a damn jerk all the time."

Feliciano crossed his arms over his chest. "Lovi, Antonio loves you. You both deserve each other, can't you see it? He even put it down for you on paper!" His eyebrows narrowed accusingly. "It's not every day when someone loves you enough to do something like that. It's so obviously meant to be! Do you even love him?"

Lovino let another sob escape his mouth before replying. " _Si_ , dumbass."

"I don't think _I'm_ the dumbass here, Lovi. Remember what you told me back in the car? You told me that I needed to be strong," reminded Feliciano. He pointed a finger at Lovino's face. "And now, it's my turn to tell _you_ the same thing."

Lovino heard a loud _boom_. He glanced out the window, only just then noticing the downpour that was happening outside. "It's none of your business…"

Feliciano shook his head again, this time more assertively. "When you walk around the house and spend the rest of your days sulking and crying and regretting your decisions, I _have_ to make it my business."

Whatever version of Feliciano Lovino was witnessing now was not the usual Feliciano he knew. This one was stronger, wiser beyond his years.

He seemed to know a thing or two about love. So Lovino listened.

"Fine." Lovino refused to make eye contact, instead choosing to direct his gaze to the ceiling. "What do I do, now?"

Feliciano grinned, glad that he could get through to his stubborn older brother.

"Remember what Antonio asked you?"

Lovino thought for a moment. "About Homecoming?"

Feliciano nodded. "If you want to show him you love him, there's something you can do to start." He leaned inwards, placing his elbows on his knees.

"Give him an answer."

* * *

**NOTES:**

\- _Дa_ (Russian): Yes

\- You can probably start to see how certain pairings are in the making from this chapter. Again, I'm not going to explicitly tell you what they are, but it's kind of in the story's tags so...

Not much else to say, except thank you for reading. The end of this story arc might be in roughly 6-7 chapters, to give you a heads-up. (Please note that just because this particular **arc** is ending, the story as a whole will still go on. I might focus on other characters like the Nordics, Prussia, Hungary, France, England, etc.) I hope it's not too difficult to keep up with the constant switching of storylines. Just in case you need a little assistance, I'll give it to you in a more concise manner.

Basically all the storylines so far:

\- Feliciano/Ludwig storyline

\- Lovino/Antonio storyline

\- Ivan/Alfred/Tolys/Natalya storyline

Basically, every time you see one of these things: ┏━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┓The storyline changes.

Anyways, hope you've enjoyed it so far! Comments/Kudos are really appreciated.


	18. Pleading the Fifth

Alfred looked from his brother to Ivan, then back again. It was only then when he was able to realize how awkward the situation was. Whatever position he was in with Ivan—it had to be  _ something _ at least  _ somewhat  _ suggestive. Suggestive enough for Matthew to notice and point out, anyway. 

Alfred couldn’t quite place Ivan’s facial expression. It was unreadable. Filled to the brink with  _ some  _ emotion, no doubt, but emotion that was far too muddied for anyone to make sense of. 

“I.. uh…” Alfred felt a dull aching in his wrists. Ivan had been pressing down on them. “We weren’t—this wasn’t—”

Matthew chuckled quietly. “Yeah, I could tell. Accidents happen.” His lavender eyes flickered over to meet Ivan’s, laced with warning. “Unless this wasn’t an accident.” 

A drop of sweat slid down the back of Alfred’s neck. He had seen Matthew’s vicious side before—he had first witnessed it after a rather intense Hockey match. But he would never even  _ dream  _ that his shy, kind, twin brother could ever direct animosity to another person. 

_ He doesn’t trust Ivan.  _ Alfred was practically drowning in Ivan’s deep, violet, pools. In the midst of his strange haze, he saw a glint of lust pass through the Russian’s unwavering gaze, but it was gone as soon as it came. 

Yet somehow —there was a feeling that he just couldn’t seem to shake. A feeling of… vulnerability? Alfred felt like he was nothing more than a prey, at the hands of Ivan’s mercy. A feeling that Tolys had described to him many times before, a feeling that he was never able to understand. 

Alfred grew even warier with every passing moment. Something was poking at his left leg, and it didn’t take a genius to realize what that was. 

“Hey.. dude… can you get off me now?” Alfred shifted uncomfortably. He didn’t like being vulnerable. He didn’t like being trapped. 

“Mm.” Ivan removed his hands from Alfred’s wrists and stood, not looking even the slightest bit embarrassed. The bulge was impossible to hide. 

Matthew noticed, too. He raised one inquisitive eyebrow, but said nothing about the subject. “I got the flashlight.” He held up a large, plastic, device and switched it on. The dim flashlight on Ivan’s phone paled in comparison to the new light’s glow. 

Alfred’s face was immediately bathed in pale light. He instinctively squeezed his eyes shut and cried out. “Dude! You’re blinding me!” 

Matthew grimaced and angled the flashlight towards the ground. “Sorry,” he said before sparing another glance towards the window. The lightning and thunder had died down since, but the rain was still coming down fast. “Looks like we’re going to have to wait this out.”

Alfred nodded. A sick feeling clawed its way through his stomach. He didn’t like the idea of having to sit in the darkness with a creepy, somewhat delusional, Russian. While Ivan didn’t seem like he was ready to snap Alfred’s neck, the possibility still hung in the air. Combined with the added tension or arousal or whatever had happened earlier, being in the same room as Ivan felt wrong. “Matt… how long is the power gonna be out?”

Alfred’s words came out much more high-pitched and worried than he would’ve liked them to. He would have been embarrassed if it wasn’t for the fear within him ready to overflow. 

Matthew tapped his chin in thought. “Blackout’s gonna last till at least around 4 o’clock, give or take.” Noticing Alfred’s facial expression contorted with worry, Matthew smiled sympathetically. “Al, you don’t have to worry. I’m here.”

Alfred nodded and mumbled a half-coherent “yeah” in response. Yet, he couldn’t quite wrap his head around the fact that Ivan would be staying at his place. Matthew would probably just make him sleep on the couch, but  _ still.  _ He could probably sense Ivan’s looming presence from about a mile away. Not like Alfred was  _ scared _ , or anything. He was just… slightly unnerved. 

“Дерьмо. My car is still out in the middle of nowhere.” Ivan briefly regretted his decision to accept help from Alfred. Now, his older sister’s precious Lexus was doomed to a night of harsh weather and neglect. Katyusha would be upset, but she wouldn’t have the heart to mention it. 

Matthew sighed. “Well, that’s life. You can pick it up tomorrow.” Alfred almost missed the sharp edge of bitterness in his brother’s usually sweet voice. 

Ivan nodded but said nothing more. 

Alfred felt like he was suffocating on the tension. 

_ I don’t want to do this right now. I have to find some excuse to leave.  _

“Matt, I need the light.” He got up from his spot on the couch and held his hand out. “Don’t wanna take a shower in complete darkness.” 

Matthew tossed Alfred the flashlight, only a little hesitantly. “That’s the only one I could find. Try not to waste the battery life.” 

Alfred flashed Matthew an exaggerated grin and thumbs-up before leaving the living room in a hurry. 

He entered the bathroom and closed the door (although ‘slammed’ might be a better description.) Alfred placed the flashlight on its end so the beam lit up most of the space. He then proceeded to undress, leaving his clothes strewn around the floor rather haphazardly.

A feeling washed over him. The same one that he had experienced back in the living room with Ivan on top of him. The cold claws of anxiety began to grasp at his sanity, threatening to push him over the edge. 

Fortunately enough, Alfred was able to place the exact source of this fear. 

It was the dark. Again. 

It filled the cracks and crevices of the bathroom that weren’t as close in proximity to the flashlight. Alfred couldn’t imagine what sorts of creatures that could be lurking around in those unlit spaces. 

He had never really believed in ghosts and spirits; that was Arthur’s thing. However, after watching that one horror movie Kiku had provided him… the idea of paranormal existence didn’t seem so mythical anymore. 

Nevertheless, Alfred wasn’t planning on spending more time than he really needed to. He really didn’t want Matthew to get on his case about wasting his cherished battery life. 

He slid open the shower curtain and stepped inside. The curtain was opaque, blocking out practically all of the light from the flashlight. 

Alfred cranked the knob and felt lukewarm water spray down onto him from above. It wasn’t quite as hot as he preferred, but he didn’t have the liberty of waiting for it to heat up. 

_ It’s just the dark. Just the dark, right? All those weird evil spirits and monsters and ghosts… they don’t exist.  _

_ But even so, they still scare the absolute shit out of me.  _

_ This is pathetic. Ridiculously pathetic. I’m the goddamn hero! I’m not scared of anything!  _

Alfred groped at the wall to his right to find the shower caddy. After a few seconds of searching, his fingers grazed a plastic bottle. 

He grabbed it and flipped the cap, squeezing the life out of the bottle he assumed to be soap. Nothing came out. 

A groan of disdain escaped Alfred’s mouth, echoing through the small bathroom. 

_ Fabulous. Just fabulous.  _

He reached his hand back to the shelf, his fingers grazing a slick surface. 

Despite the almost-darkness and his lack of glasses, Alfred was able to tell that what he was touching was indeed a bar of soap. 

As he fought to keep the bar from slipping from his hands, Alfred couldn’t help but wonder what was happening back in the living room with Matthew and Ivan. 

_ Hopefully they aren’t arguing or anything. I mean, I hate Ivan’s guts, but I really don’t wanna unleash an angry Matt on him.  _

Alfred cringed at the thought. 

_ That wouldn’t end well.  _

┏━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┓

Ivan could see perfectly fine, even without the flashlight. His vision was always top-notch, and his pupils had already dilated to adjust to the darkness. Plus, the full moon positioned conveniently in front of the window was nothing if not helpful. 

“So. How do you plan on getting back?” Matthew folded his hands in his lap, still painting the image of politeness. An image that was effortless to maintain in front of everybody else —even for people like Francis or Gilbert. But for  _ some  _ reason, the Canadian had a problem with Ivan in particular. 

Ivan cleared his throat and straightened his posture. “At this point, I believe getting back would be out of the question,” he responded, gesturing towards the scattered raindrops painting the window. 

Matthew pulled his lips into a tight smile. “I figured as much. But,” His hands left his lap, folding together in a rather threatening way. He cracked his knuckles. “I do hope you don’t have any…” His stare fell from Ivan’s face, most likely directing itself to what can only be described as Ivan’s vital regions. Vital regions that seemed oddly prominent, at the moment. “Ulterior motives.”

Ivan felt his muscles tense. “And whatever could that mean, comrade?”

The façade dropped. Matthew’s face twisted into a scowl, and he leaned in closer. Intimidation radiated from his pale lavender eyes. Politeness and civility be screwed—he had a point to make. “We are not  _ comrades _ ,” Matthew growled. “I know what you do. You hurt people. With that damned metal pipe of yours, correct?” His voice was low and serious, dripping with venom and accusation. 90% of the population would have pissed their pants by then, with the other 10% having already done so minutes earlier. Despite the statistical inconsistencies, Ivan did not fall into either category. 

Ivan chuckled humourlessly. He took out the metal pipe in question, the moon’s light reflecting its silver surface perfectly. “Ah, it seems as though you are already acquainted with my metal pipe. Splendid.” He ran a finger along its surface, the cold metal seeming to inject excitement right into his nerves. “And you are correct, comrade. I do hurt people with this pipe.” 

Matthew looked absolutely disgusted. “Give me one good reason why you think that hurting people like that is okay.” 

Ivan grinned. “Of course. There is one more thing you should know.” He placed the pipe in his lap carefully. “I do not hurt people unless I have a motive.” Cold, violet, eyes met with lavender ones, possessing the same amount of resolve. “And you are giving me a  _ damn  _ good motive right now.” 

If Matthew was even the slightest bit intimidated by the threat, he did an excellent job of hiding it. “You know Tolys Laurinaitis, right?” 

_ Diverting the topic. Smart kid.  _ “Yes. Although I don’t see how any of that is any of your business.” 

Matthew adjusted his glasses that had since begun to slip down his nose and held up a finger. “I was getting to that part. Al talks about Tolys a lot. And I mean,  _ a lot _ ,” he said. “And I’m pretty sure that my brother is in love with the kid.” 

Ivan raised one eyebrow. “And what are you getting at, here?” 

“Good question. So, Ivan. Or, as Al likes to address you,  _ commie _ ,” 

Ivan wanted to add that Alfred had never used the nickname as of recent, but kept his mouth shut. 

“You want Tolys too,” Matthew added. 

“You have first-grade level deduction skills. How impressive.” 

Matthew rolled his eyes. “I know how you treat him. Remember Al’s Halloween party last year?” 

Ivan’s blood turned into ice. He remembered. All too well. He didn’t even need to ask the Canadian how the event had anything to do with Tolys. He knew. 

“Yes.” 

“So I would assume you  _ also  _ remember what you did to poor little Tolys, then.” 

Ivan’s silence was all the affirmation that Matthew needed. 

“Now,  _ tell me _ , what makes you think that it’s healthy for Tolys to engage in a relationship with you? The exact person who physically, mentally, and not to mention sexually—” 

Rage burned through Ivan’s veins. His blood was no longer ice. It was steaming hot, about to boil over. “I was intoxicated that night. You and I both know that.” 

Matthew clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Now,  _ tell me _ , why do you think being under the influence of alcohol makes you free of any responsibility?” 

Ivan narrowed his eyes into violet slits. “Whatever happened between Tolys and I is nothing of your concern.” 

Matthew looked like he could laugh out loud. “Nothing of  _ my  _ concern? Here’s something else I feel you should know.” This time, he really did laugh. It was nothing like those normal soft, quiet little giggles of his. The laugh was cold, bitter, and more than a little captious. “It’s Alfred’s business. And when it’s Alfred’s business, you can bet your ass and a million bucks that it’s my business too.” 

For once in his life, Ivan didn’t know what he could say. What was he  _ supposed  _ to say, in that situation? 

“I refuse to confirm or deny any of those  _ allegations  _ of yours,” Ivan barely managed to counter. 

Matthew smirked. “Pleading the Fifth? Weak move. If we were in court, the jury would probably laugh in your face.” 

“Interesting analogy of yours.” 

Matthew scoffed. “Mhmm. Remember Career day? Last week of 8th grade?”

He did remember. The day all the students were required to speak to the class about what profession they planned to partake in when they were older. 

Amongst the string of doctors and engineers and nurses, was one boy who said he wanted to be a lawyer. A good one, or so he specified. 

Ivan nodded. 

“Interesting. Because nobody else remembered what I said. Nobody even knows who I am.” Matthew crossed his arms in a smooth manner. “Al likes playing the hero. Beating up bad guys, saving the world, all that. And he’s right. Stopping the bad guys is important. And do you know where it can be done?” He drummed his fingers on the armrest, then waited a few moments before continuing. “A courtroom.” 

But Ivan and Matthew weren’t in a courtroom. There was no judge, there was no attorney.

But there was an audience. 

Alfred. Standing near the hallway entrance, with a towel hastily wrapped around his waist and water dripping from his body.

* * *

** NOTES:  **

\- Heh, so, I may have been watching too many legal dramas. So, a lot of this chapter may have seen a little dramatic for a conversation between two highschool boys. I couldn't help it, though! 

\- Canada may seem **very** out of character here. But I think he's a lot more interesting with another side to his personality, no?

\- The horror movie that Kiku gave Alfred is a reference to an episode of the series where America watches a horror movie and gets kind of traumatized. 

\- The Fifth Amendment mentioned in the last part of the story is an amendment part of the U.S. Bill of Rights that allows the right to not testify against themselves in a Court of Law. Pleading the Fifth is basically just declining to answer any incriminating questions. 

\- You should probably know what "vital regions" means. If you don't, then you either are incredibly innocent or a little too young to be reading this. 

This chapter came a little late. Sorry about that. I was super busy and unable to write a decently good chapter to post. I hope nobody thought I was gonna abandon this work, as the odds of that are pretty low. I already have this arc planned out, and giving up now would be stupid. 

Thanks for reading! Comments/Kudos are appreciated! 


	19. Bottled Up

Tolys stepped out of the bathroom, hair and skin still somewhat damp. As it appeared, Katyusha had left his shirt folded into a neat pile on the bed. 

After changing back into the clothes he had been wearing earlier (he had no intention of borrowing anything from Ivan’s wardrobe), Tolys took a seat on the bed once again. 

There was nothing better to do than just go to sleep. But his brain just wouldn’t let him; thoughts and questions bounced around his head and had no plans on ceasing. 

_ No… Ivan couldn’t possibly be jealous… jealous of Alfred…  _

_ But now that I think about it, Alfred and Ivan were always arguing. In the hallways, classrooms _ — _ anywhere. Even on the first day, back at the field.  _

_ The way Ivan touches me… I don’t know how to feel! It’s like his hand is made out of ice or something. But no matter what I say, he just won’t stop.  _

Tolys rubbed his temple, feeling a dull headache begin to pound. 

_ This is all just too much! I'm in way over my head. I really wish I had somebody to talk to right now. Well, there is Natalya and Katyusha. But I don’t think I’m quite comfortable enough with them to have a kind of conversation that’d be better suited for a diary or something.  _

Tolys used to keep a diary. Or journal, as he oftentimes insisted. Back when he lived at Ivan’s house, every day entailed stress and pain. And of course, fear. That was guaranteed in any situation involving the Russian. 

He would write. Write about his feelings, emotions, and all of the like. Tolys didn’t really think it was embarrassing, even when Raivis had accidentally found it and read the first few pages out of curiosity. 

But sometimes, the words that filled the pages weren’t just mundane descriptions about his daily life. 

The words actually  _ meant  _ something. Poems, stories, and all of the like. 

But Tolys guarded those words with his entire life. Those words would eventually end up either burnt to ashes, or ripped apart beyond recognition. 

_ I really wish Feliks was here right now.  _

Feliks liked to talk. A lot. Most of the time, his conversations would focus on drama, romance, and more drama. But he was still one of Tolys’s oldest friends and a great listener. 

_ But he isn’t here. He’s probably off partying somewhere. Or maybe at the shopping mall, helping Elizaveta pick out a dress for the dance.  _

He had almost forgotten. But of course, he couldn’t. 

The Homecoming dance was the only thing that people could talk about. Even the actual Homecoming football game had been disregarded. 

_ Maybe Feliks will pity me and let me tag along with him.  _

Tolys had a sinking feeling that he would end up standing in the corner of the room, nursing a cup of punch, and gazing wistfully at those brave enough to enter the dance floor. 

Shaking his head, Tolys got up from the bed to switch the light off, only to return back. 

And so, he fell into a fitful sleep. 

┏━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┓

_ Stupid Feli. Stupid Toni. Mio Dio, why am I acting like such a girl? _

_ All I have to do is just walk up to the bastard’s house and ring the doorbell. Not too hard, right? _

Lovino felt stuck, his legs rooted to that spot on the sidewalk in front of Antonio’s house. He could hear his own heart beat, loud and much too clear for his liking. 

Antonio’s house was different from the rest on the street. Lovino could tell it was his from a mile away. 

It was the tomatoes. The bright, succulent, plants growing in his front yard. The tomatoes that would always somehow find their way onto the countertop, and then into Lovino’s own mouth. 

**_Just do it, already!_ **

_ Even my stupid little brother told me I was being a wuss. Sometimes I wish I could shove that damn white flag down his throat! _

Lovino took a few steps forward, feeling another smattering of raindrops hit the top of his head and the sides of his face. Thunder and lightning crackled through the air, sending slight shivers up his spine. 

**_I don’t care if I’m in the middle of a raging storm._ **

**_I need to do this._ **

**_I need…_ **

**_him._ **

Lovino angled one hazel-green eye at the window. His heart immediately sank. The lights were all off. 

_ He must not be home.  _

_ But then where else would he be?  _

**_I need to do this._ **

_ If he isn’t home, at least I’d just be saving myself half the embarrassment.  _

Lovino continued walking up the steps until he reached the door. He reached under the doormat for a spare key that Antonio had gladly allowed Lovino to use whenever he wanted. The brass doorknob felt cold and wet under his palm. 

“Hello? Is… is anybody in here?” Lovino’s voice echoed through the dark and seemingly empty house. He received no response. 

Something felt oddly eerie to him. Something about the darkness and the absence of a certain Spaniard —it unnerved him far more than he would care to admit. 

“Bastard… I know you’re there,” Lovino insisted. He prayed that whoever was in the house, _ if there was anyone _ , wouldn’t catch the undertone of fear in his voice. 

_ It’s so dark.  _

Lovino ran his finger along the far wall until he felt the light switch. Sighing in relief, he flicked it. 

Nothing happened. 

He flipped the switch once more. 

The darkness would not go away. 

_ Merda. So there’s probably a power outage in here. Just my shitty luck.  _

Lovino briefly contemplated just turning on his heel and getting the hell out. 

That was what he  _ wanted  _ to do. 

He shook his head. 

_ No. No, no, no. I came here for a reason, damn it! If I could find a candle or something, I can just leave him a note or something and then leave.  _

Lovino knew the layout of Antonio’s house like the back of his hand. Those lazy summer days spent in the gardens, picking tomatoes… emerald green eyes… 

The Italian ventured further into the house, only bumping into a wall every now and again Eventually, he reached the kitchen. In the third drawer to the right of the sink was a lighter, and a rose-scented candle (most likely gifted by Francis) sat right on the dining table. 

_ I can barely tell where I’m going in this stupid house, let alone write something that’s even remotely legible. So if I can just get a little bit of light... _

A small flame flickered into visibility, dancing on the candlewick. 

Satisfied with himself, Lovino shoved the lighter back into its original place and snatched the pad of post-it-notes attached to the fridge by a single magnet. 

Lovino felt stuck. Again. What was he supposed to write? 

_ I like you? _

_ I love you? _

_ I hate you? _

_ I like you and I love you and hate you and I really want to spend the rest of my goddamn life with you but I just don’t know what I am supposed to say? _

Lovino twiddled the pen in his hand—it was nothing special, just a cheap ballpoint pen that he always kept in his pocket misshapen ever so slightly by teeth marks. 

_ Just make it short. I’m not gonna write a 3-page long ballad for that stupid bastard.  _

_ Just a few sentences.  _

_ Just a few lines.  _

As soon as he pressed the point of the pen onto the paper, he heard a faint  _ creak  _ come from the foyer. His heart practically jumped out of his chest at the noise. 

_ Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Did somebody break-in? _

Lovino anxiously played with a strand of dark brown hair, trying his best to stay calm. 

_ It’s my damn fault, too. I left the door unlocked.  _

Loud footsteps were audible from the other room. Lovino grabbed the candle with the intention of blowing it out so the intruder wouldn’t notice him. 

“Mhmm. Don’t need to get your panties in a twist, pal. I’m sure your little boyfriend is fine.  _ Ja,  _ the door was unlocked. Did you leave it like that?” 

The fear clutching at Lovino’s chest was soon replaced by annoyance. 

_ It’s one of the potato bastards. Gilbert. The one that gave us a ride.  _

_ The hell is  _ **_he_ ** _ doing here? _

It sounded like Gilbert was on the phone with someone. Lovino was no idiot; he could guess who was on the other end. 

_ Either the French pervert or Ludwig.  _

_ Or Toni.  _

_ But… little boyfriend?  _

“Aw, c’mon! That’s so un-awesome. I even brought the beer!” Gilbert paused for a short moment before speaking again, most likely listening to what the other person had to say. “Nah, Francis didn’t come with.”

_ It’s probably Toni. But then where the hell did he go? _

Lovino could hear Gilbert’s voice grow louder. He looked down at the small post-it note, still blank. Carefully, he placed the scented candle back where it was before. 

Apparently, he wasn’t careful enough. 

The glass jar of hardened, Fuschia-colored wax hit the cold granite with a resonating  _ clunk. _

Gilbert immediately stopped talking.

Lovino grimaced. 

_ Great. Now that stupid potato bastard’s gonna come in here and I’ll never hear the end of it.  _

“Hey… man… I think someone else is in your house,” Gilbert said tentatively. 

_ No shit, sherlock.  _

Lovino smirked despite the situation. 

_ I bet all Germans are as thick-headed as this one.  _

“I’m kinda scared, Toni.  _ Gott _ , I wish I had Lizzie’s frying pan right now…” 

Lovino was sick of all the foolery. So, he stepped out of the kitchen and decided to address the white-haired visitor directly. 

“Welcome back, asshole.”

Gilbert looked frightened at first, ruby-red eyes widening. Because of the darkness, he couldn’t quite see who the person was. And in his defense, an unfamiliar disembodied voice would be at least a little bit scary. 

But the voice wasn’t unfamiliar. 

The tension dropped from Gilbert’s shoulders. “Ah, Toni! Your boyfriend was here the whole time! Isn’t that funny?” 

Lovino groaned and rolled his eyes. 

_ Was that really necessary? _

“Calm down! He’s fine, don’t worry. Just..” Gilbert took a few seconds to examine the Italian boy in front of him. “Really wet. And pissed.” He pressed the “end call” button in a dramatic manner. 

_ Why did he have to choose his words that way?!  _

“Of course I am, dumb bastard.” Lovino narrowed his eyebrows, shooting Gilbert a glare that would definitely not go unnoticed, even in the dark. “What’s your business here, huh?”

Gilbert let out an obnoxious laugh and grinned. “I could ask you the same thing! Waiting for your husband to get home from work?”

Lovino turned a bright shade of red. “NO, YOU JERK BASTARD! I just…” 

_ What do I say, now? That I wanted to write a love letter to Antonio?  _

_ No way in hell! That’s embarrassing, damn it! And I don’t need something else for that white-haired bastard to hold over my head for the rest of my life! _

“Kesesese! Whatever you say! Well, anyway, I came over here to have a drink or two with my buddy Antonio,” Gilbert explained. “Turns out he wasn’t home. Went to Emma and Tim’s place to have dinner, and now I think he’s stuck there until morning.” 

_ So it figures.  _

Lovino was pleasantly surprised at how easily Gilbert dropped the topic of romantic affairs. In fact, it was a little bit suspicious…

“Oi, bastard.”

Gilbert nodded as if to say ”I’m listening.”

“When you were talking on the phone with Antonio…”

“You want to ask who Toni’s ‘little boyfriend’ is, right?”

Lovino nodded and cursed under his breath. 

_ How did he know?  _

“Well, for starters, you’re pretty obvious,” said Gilbert before popping the top off a beer bottle. 

Lovino’s throat felt blocked. “What’s that supposed to mean, eh?” 

Gilbert took a long gulp of the golden-coloured liquid before responding. “See, you always get so angry and flustered around him. Or when anybody asks about him. And your face becomes super red.” He placed the bottle on the coffee table. “Honestly, it would be impossible for anyone to  _ not  _ notice.”

Lovino eyed the alcohol a few feet away. “You know you’re underage, right?”

Gilbert rejected the comment with a wave of the hand. “Pff, whatever. Plus, you Italians go through wine like it’s water.” 

Lovino shut his mouth. It was true, he did enjoy a good glass (or sometimes multiple glasses) of fine every now and then. But he had gotten permission from his Grandfather, something that he was almost  _ certain  _ that Gilbert did not have. 

Throwing all his common sense to the wind, Lovino reached for one of the unopened beer bottles sitting in the case. 

Gilbert raised one eyebrow incredulously before smirking. “Are you sure you’ll be able to handle that, little boy?”

Lovino scowled and removed the cap. “Shut up. I had a stressful day, dammit. I deserve it.” 

So he drank. Surprisingly enough, it really wasn’t all that bad. It was rather unfamiliar on his tongue; such a far cry from the deep and fruity undertones of a nice bottle of wine. 

Gilbert laughed again, but less enthusiastically. “So then, what happened to you?”

Lovino’s grip on the bottle tightened considerably. 

_ Should I just tell him?  _

_ I never tell anyone anything. I keep my emotions so bottled up… _

_ Maybe that’s why I act like such a prick all the damn time.  _

“Antonio asked me to go to the dance with him. Told me he loved me. And…” Lovino buried his face in his hands, ashamed that he had let so much slip. “I feel the same way. But I just… needed to tell him…”

The last part was quiet, not far from becoming a whisper. 

Much to his surprise, Gilbert did not laugh. He did not tease. He didn’t even crack another playful grin. 

He just nodded. 

“I get it. That’s kind of why I’m here.” Gilbert ran a hand through his short, white, hair. “I’ve got myself some romance trouble, too.”

Lovino held out his palm, gesturing for Gilbert to continue. 

“You really want to know, kid?” 

“Yes.”

A few moments of silence ensued. Gilbert tossed his now-empty beer bottle to the floor. 

“Alright.”

* * *

**NOTES:**

\- There's somewhat of a historical reference in the first part of the story when Feliks and Elizaveta are mentioned. Historically, Poland and Hungary were involved in a friendship, and I felt like I was obligated to include it somewhere here. 

\- For some reason, Grammarly does not think "Tolys" is an actual name. Nice. 

\- _Mio Dio_ (Italian): My God

\- You may or may not have been able to tell, but another arc is going to be starting up pretty soon. Like, in the next chapter or chapter after. The GerIta arc is basically done, leaving room for another one to take the spotlight. So then I thought: why not bring Prussia, Hungary, and Austria into this madness? And with that being said, with Austria will come Switzerland, and with Switzerland will come Liechtenstein. Hooray, the drama continues, but with new characters. 

\- If you were wondering about the entire musical aspect of this work, (Ex. _Marukaite Chikyuu_ and other elements), please keep in mind that they are all still present. However, these last few chapters are a lot less focused on that and more on the drama. Don't worry, there's still the Pep Rally, the Homecoming Game (yes, I will find a way to incorporate that into the story), and of course, the revered full-orchestra concert to look forward to. 

\- I was thinking about doing a special sort of chapter for Halloween. It's in about two weeks, by the way, and I couldn't be more excited! Perhaps I could do a little flashback to the Halloween party brought up in the America/Russia/Belarus/Lithuania arc. I'm not sure, would you like to see that?

Thanks for reading!


	20. Bad Faith

Another drop of water hit the floor. Alfred felt the towel around his waist begin to slip ever so slightly, and quickly pulled it back up.

His fears were confirmed. Matthew and Ivan appeared to be at each other's throats, arguing with a ferocity that Alfred could never match. Arguing in a way that was very unlike any way Alfred and Ivan would argue. Their banters were petty and predictable, with Tolys and the reliability of communism being the main talking points.

Whatever kind of argument or debate that Alfred had walked in on…

Well, it _was_ interesting. But still, it shouldn't have been happening in the first place.

Matthew and Ivan went silent. The Canadian cleared his throat and sank back into the armchair, looking sheepish. "Oh, Al. I didn't know you were there."

Alfred's eyes then darted over to Ivan, who set his face back into a neutral expression, seemingly wanting to try and hide what had been happening also. "Mhmm. We were just having a polite conversation, is all."

"Yeah, and I can fly." Alfred placed a hand on his own hip, regardless of whether it made him look like a sassy teenage girl. "Af if I'm about to believe _that._ I was standing right there!"

Matthew shifted uncomfortably, not knowing what to say. "Honestly, it's all fine. The conversation just got a little bit—" He fiddled with a neon orange throw pillow, stammering a little before finding the right words. "Heated."

Showing no concern over his current almost-nakedness, (It was practically pitch-dark anyways) Alfred approached his brother with a few quick strides. "I heard it, Matt. Not all of it, but enough." He looked to Ivan, accusing blue eyes brimming with fury. "And that means I _also_ heard about what you did to Tolys."

Ivan's lip twitched. "I have no idea what you are talking about." He tried his best to keep his gaze from dropping any lower on Alfred's body, and he was simultaneously both disgusted and surprised at this notion.

"What happened on Halloween, Ivan?"

"That is none of your—"

"I said, _what happened on Halloween, Ivan_?" Alfred tapped one bare foot impatiently on the floor, arms crossed boldly.

Matthew simply glared at the Russian, knowing full well what the answer was. But he knew that Alfred would much rather hear those convicting words from Ivan himself.

Ivan stiffened in a way that gave Alfred a puff of pride. Imagine that, the great and fearful Ivan Braginsky intimidated by some blondie with a hero complex!

Alfred could imagine that. And it felt _great._

"Nothing happened on Halloween," responded Ivan monotonously.

Matthew peered at Ivan over the frames of his glasses. "Bad faith. You're operating on bad faith."

Alfred looked confused. "The hell does that mean?" he whispered to Matthew.

Matthew shot his brother a look that said _don't worry about it_ and continued speaking. "Deception won't work. But the least I could do is give you credit for trying."

Ivan clenched his fists tightly. Never has anybody dared to question him—or even _speak_ to him in such a way. "I don't require your silly _credit_. Plus, you must have a death wish if you intend on continuing to press the subject."

Alfred narrowed his eyebrows and growled in an almost animalistic manner. "Just watch me, you predator."

┏━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┓

Gilbert felt nauseous. A cold feeling gnawed at the insides of his stomach, a feeling that made him want to scream. Not to mention his entire body was soaking wet, chilling him right down to the bone.

Band practice wore him out, and Antonio's house was close by. So, why not stop by for some alcohol-induced fun with his friend?

Antonio wasn't home. So Gilbert took the liberty of calling him. Turns out, he was just at his cousin's place for the evening.

But there was _somebody_ home. Lovino Vargas, Antonio's spicy little boyfriend. Turns out, he came for Antonio, too.

Gilbert had a lot to get off his chest, and sadly enough, nobody really cared to listen. Ludwig was too busy studying for a test that was in three months, and Francis decided that now would be a good idea to have a little rendezvous sleepover with Arthur, even though they would most likely not be doing a lot of sleeping.

And of course, there was Elizaveta.

But he wasn't quite ready to talk to her.

"I get it. That's kind of why I'm here. I've got myself some romance trouble, too," Gilbert said.

"You really want to know, kid?"

"Yes."

"Alright."

Gilbert reached into the package to grab another beer bottle but felt a sharp pinch on the back of his neck. Instinctively, his hand moved from the beer to his neck. "Ouch! What the hell was that for, kid?!"

Lovino glared at Gilbert and rolled his eyes. "I was helping you, jackass. Alcohol poisoning exists, you know."

Gilbert chuckled sadly and gave up on his little mission. "Ah. _Danke_ , Lovi."

Lovino seethed and briefly contemplated smacking Gilbert in the face. "Don't call me that, potato-eating bastard!"

"Oh? Well, you seem _fine_ whenever your precious Toni uses that nickname."

"Tch. Whatever. Just tell me what your problem is, dumbass."

 _My problem? Well, she has the prettiest brown hair. She wears this little pink flower hair clip that always seems to slip off. And, Mein Gott, when she laughs—it's just incredible, and sometimes I wish I could just grab her and kiss her right on the lips_ —

"Do you know who Elizaveta is?"

Lovino tapped his chin with his index finger, thinking silently for a few seconds. "That Hungarian chick? First chair Clarinet?"

Gilbert nodded as if to confirm. "Mhmm. And I—"

"You love her."

"Well… that might be a little bit of an exaggeration—"

"No. No, it's not. You know, I might be younger than you, but I'm not an idiot. You're head over heels for that girl."

Gilbert gazed up at the ceiling and let a wistful grin fall upon his face. "Yeah. You're right. I'm in love with Elizaveta Hedervary. But that doesn't change the fact that…"

An image floated to his mind. An image that he so desperately wanted to scrub from his brain until no remnants remain.

Elizaveta and Vladimir hated each other's guts. Honestly, it was a miracle that they managed to go days without causing any bodily harm to one another. But one specific day, Vlad decided to experiment with his potions. One of them just so happened to be a love potion.

Vlad didn't quite know whether it would work or not. It was just something that he (along with Lukas and Arthur) had managed to come up with on a whim. So, what better way to test it out than to feed it to the girl you hate?

On the bright side, the potion did actually work. Too well, actually. Which was exactly what led to a certain event that Gilbert was unlucky enough to witness.

Elizaveta drank the potion, which contaminated her bottled water.

Vladimir peered out from the corner of the hall, grinning evilly. His plan succeeded. Elizaveta would surely fall in love with the first person that she laid eyes upon.

And who would have thought that poor, unsuspecting, Vladimir would be that very person?

She ran up and kissed him. Hard.

Things were _extremely_ awkward after that. The effects of the potion wore off in a few hours, and when Elizaveta found out what she had done under its influence—

She looked traumatized.

Gilbert guessed that she spent the rest of the evening scrubbing her lips until they were raw.

While he knew full well that the two had no feelings for each other, the heavy feeling in his heart refused to subside.

"Change the fact that what? Oi, bastard! Are you there?" Lovino waved a hand in front of Gilbert's face and yelled a couple more times.

"I think Lizzie's changed. She wears makeup and dresses and high heels—not like when we were younger. Plus, she keeps fawning over our conductor."

"Mr. Edelstein? But he's—"

"I know right? Turns out that Austrian prick is only a couple years older than us," interrupted Gilbert. "Still, he acts like a middle-aged man. A middle-aged man with a stick up his ass."

"Students aren't allowed to date teachers, though."

"Yeah. Won't stop her from gushing on and on about him." Gilbert sighed and rested the back of his head on his arms. "Probably gonna run off and marry the guy once she graduates after this year."

"Unless you do something about it," proposed Lovino.

Gilbert eyed Lovino incredulously. "Kid, are you sure you're qualified enough to be giving me advice?"

Lovino scoffed. "Listen, kraut-breath. I think I'm pretty skilled at this whole lovey-dovey nonsense. Feliciano's my brother, so I'm at least a little experienced at this point."

Gilbert raised both of his palms. "Okay, okay! So then," Gilbert fiddled around with a stray bottle cap. "What should I do to get her attention?"

"I have a plan. But I don't think you'll like it too much."

Gilbert raised an eyebrow. "And why is that?"

Lovino smirked. "Because it might cost you a little bit of pride."

* * *

**NOTES:**

\- _Danke_ (German): Thank you

\- Vladimir is Romania. He and Hungary don't exactly have the best relationship.

\- To operate with "Bad Faith" would be to make a claim or claims with the intent to deceive.

\- Sorry, this chapter is shorter than usual. Time is flying by really fast, and sometimes I go almost a week without posting without even realizing it. With this chapter, I had a little bit of writer's block. It might be kind of dull because of this.

\- I had to make a few adjustments in order for the plot to work. Because Austria is a teacher, I decided to make a few changes. Hungary, Austria, Prussia, and Spain are all Seniors, now. I would assume Austria would be around 20-22 years old, while the rest are maybe 18. The whole Frying Pangle thing might not be as prominent as I had originally planned out.

Thank you for reading!


	21. Conflict of Interest

Alfred saw rage flash through violet eyes, a rage that terrified him right down to the core. He wasn't scared of a lot of things. And he was certainly _not_ scared of people.

But when a person who is practically twice your size and build has their hand wrapped around your throat, it's only natural to be at least a _little_ bit frightened.

"Take that back. Take it back, _right now_ ," Ivan commanded through gritted teeth. Alfred could hear Matthew shout something incoherent—probably in a garbled mix of French and English—but he paid it no mind.

_This was a bad idea. God, what was I thinking? Trying to play the hero again even though I_ _**knew** _ _things wouldn't end well…_

_I really am an idiot, aren't I?_

Still grasping onto the last shred of pride he had left, Alfred refused to submit. "Like _hell_ I will," he choked out. "All you're doing right now is proving my point. _Monster_."

Monster. A word that seemed to echo through Ivan's mind. A word that he was familiar with; memories attached to just a single group of letters that were strong and painful enough to make him feel sick.

Ivan felt like he had been delivered a punch to the gut. He wanted to cry. _Monster._ They would all call him that. His "friends." Strangers. Adults. How long before his family began to think the same?

He couldn't cry. He wouldn't cry. Especially in front of Alfred and Matthew, both boys who knew exactly how to get under his skin.

"Shut up. Y-you—" Ivan swallowed the bitter lump in his throat, only to find that it just wouldn't go down. "You don't know anything."

Alfred began to see spots. His vision grew weaker and weaker until the only thing he could really see were two violet gems.

No. They weren't gems. They were eyes. Eyes that wanted to kill.

And they most certainly would, if given the right motive.

Ivan was distracted, his mind swimming through years of memories he had tried so desperately to push to the back of his head.

Back when he lived in Russia before his sister had developed her odd obsessive traits. Running through the fields of bright sunflowers without a single care in the world.

If only things could be so easy, now. The world was never easy for anyone.

Some people just needed to learn the hard way.

In the midst of his reverie, Matthew had managed to pry his hand off Alfred's throat, now bruised and pale.

" _Mon Dieu!_ Al, are you okay? Just take deep breaths…" He placed two fingers on the right side of Alfred's neck to check for a pulse. It was weak and somewhat uneven, but still present.

Alfred sucked in a breath before breaking out into a coughing fit. "Y-yeah… it's all fine…" He felt his eyesight begin to restore, the haze slowly fading outwards to reveal his surroundings.

"Go lie down over there. You need to rest for some time. And as for _him_ …" Matthew clenched his jaw and turned around, sending a glare burning with anger towards Ivan's general direction. "I'll take care of it myself."

Alfred wanted to protest. He knew very well what exactly his brother was capable of, especially when armed with resentment and a hockey stick. But he was far too tired to do much at all besides flop onto the couch and let his consciousness drift away for the night.

Ivan faced the other wall. How had it all come to this? He never thought he could feel anything even remotely close to regretting his actions… but if that was so….

What was he feeling at that moment?

Remorse? Guilt?

He didn't particularly like Alfred. The American was nothing more than a loud nuisance with an infatuation with a certain brunette that Ivan also had his eyes on. Ivan had thought of beating him to a pulp multiple times before… but oddly enough,

he never gave in to those violent desires.

Ivan glanced downwards. The bulge was gone, thankfully enough. His body had taken great mercy on him.

" _Je déteste les gens comme toi. Ils sont… horribles._ " Matthew curled his fists, but did not bring them up. " _Il avait raison. Tu es un monstre. Je ne sais pas pourquoi il voulait t'aider._ "

French, along with Italian, Spanish, and perhaps Romanian was one of the so-called languages of romance. A language that Ivan didn't bother to learn, because he just didn't care. In this situation, his indifference seemed to bite him right in the ass.

The French words that came out of Matthew's mouth were far from romantic. The tone was harsh and bitter, stinging like a snake's venom. The Canadian was aware that Ivan could not understand him, yet still refused to stop.

" _Vous pensez vraiment que la violence résoudra tout? Bâtard! Tu aurais pu le tuer!_ "

Anything Ivan could say at that moment would go unheard, no doubt. There was nothing left to do but just stand there and take it.

He really didn't want to.

Perhaps… there would be other means of escaping the situation.

Ivan reached for his metal pipe, only to realize he had left it on the couch. Despite his above-par vision,, it was difficult to tell where exactly that was.

No matter, his own fists would work just fine.

He felt something poke at his back. No—not a poke. It was practically _stabbing_ him, but with a blunt edge.

A hockey stick.

"If I was a lawyer, I would have been able to lock you up right away. Punish you. Say, have you ever _killed_ anybody before, Ivan?" Matthew asked, his voice oddly calm given the circumstances.

He had. Not on purpose.

It was a burglar, but not any ordinary one. That man wasn't after money. He wanted two people.

Katyusha and Natalya, for god-knows-what reason.

The ploy _almost_ worked. Right before he could escape, he was shot in the chest. Seven times. With an AK-47. Sleeping with an assault rifle wasn't a very typical practice, but it saved his sisters' life.

"That is on a need-to-know basis, and frankly, you do not need to know," Ivan responded.

"You did. So it figures." Matthew adjusted his glasses with one hand, still using the other to hold the hockey stick in place. "There's one more thing I'm curious about. If you answer honestly, I'll let you leave from here without any physical confrontation. And trust me, I'd want nothing more than to break your neck after what you did to my brother."

"What is it, then?"

A smirk—almost a grin— found its way onto Matthew's face, somewhat similar to the one that Francis had flashed so many times before.

"Back when I was looking through the storage closet and you had Al in a… _compromising_ position…" Matthew cocked his head to one side, letting a single, long, curl slide to the right.

" _Étiez-vous excité?_ "

┏━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┓

"My pride? That means everything to me! I can't just give pieces of it away like free candy canes!" Gilbert let out a scoff before slouching back down onto the couch.

"Bastard! If you keep thinking like that, the ladies aren't even gonna _think_ about approaching you! Do you want that?" Lovino yelled before giving Gilbert a small slap on the face.

Gilbert let out a short yelp and rubbed his left cheek. "What the hell, man?! I think you've got some serious anger issues! Kind of like Lizzie…"

Lovino rolled his eyes, looking like he was about the facepalm. "Exactly my point. You're in love with that girl, and you've got to tell her."

"Ha! Says _you_. And when do you plan on confessing your feelings to Antonio?"

" _Sta 'zitto_! That's none of your business, asshole!" Lovino shouted.

" _Ja_ , whatever you say. But you know… Elizaveta is just one of _those_ girls."

Lovino raised an eyebrow. " _Those_? What're you talking about?"

"It's… well…" Gilbert had a hard time coming up with the right words to describe what he was thinking. "Those girls that aren't as easy to charm like you would have thought. Like, it'll take a lot more than a bottle of fancy wine and some smooth pick-up lines to get them interested."

"Oh. So she's playing hard-to-get?"

Gilbert shook his head, exasperated. "No… that's not it. We've basically known each other since we were born, and it's like she just thinks of me as her 'eccentric gay best friend' or something."

Lovino paused and met eye contact inquisitively.

"Are you, though?"  
Gilbert let a loud laugh escape through his throat. "Kesesese! Nah, probably not." He thought for a few seconds, considering all possibilities and interactions that would prove otherwise. Well, to be honest, I don't really know yet. But y'know, your little brother Ita-chan is starting to make me think that I swing both ways."

Lovino turned firetruck red (out of anger, this time) and shouted a long string of obscenities at Gilbert before raising one fist in a way that was intended to be threatening. "Stay away from my _fratello_ , potato-eating bastard!" His frown seemed to cut right through his slightly tanned skin, distorting initially pleasant facial features. "And I thought I only had to worry about Mr. super-studly. Guess I was wrong."

Gilbert smiled and chuckled nervously. "Whoa, it's no big deal! Just thought he was kind of cute, that's all."

Lovino's frown twitched, but never completely fell away. "Fine. I'll let it go, for now. But back to the topic of Elizaveta…" He looked to Gilbert, prompting him to continue speaking about his romance woes.

"Yeah, as I said, I think she's pretty oblivious to how I feel. And, I just…" Gilbert buried his face in his hands, mumbling something inaudible in German. "I don't want to ruin what we already have, because she's a really great friend. But, _scheiße,_ whenever she's with other people… other guys…" His crimson eyes narrowed in disgust as the thought of a certain Eastern-European boy with unusually sharp teeth. "Especially that vampire kid… I know they are nowhere near interested in each other, but I get so jealous. And maybe if we had something official, I wouldn't have to feel like that anymore."

Lovino nodded slowly. "Mm. If only Antonio were here. That damn bastard knows basically every trick in the book when it comes to this kind of thing."

"He never used any of those on you, did he?"

Lovino shook his head. "Not even once. But this isn't about him, dammit! I told you I had a plan."

"Does it involve making reservations at one of those ridiculously expensive, high-end French restaurants downtown? Because I'm broke as hell right now," interrupted Gilbert.

"No, so shut up and listen!" Lovino kicked away an empty beer bottle that had rolled closer and folded his hands together. "You play the flute, right?"

Gilbert took a few seconds to realize what Lovino was getting at. "You want me to play a love song for her? That's way un-awesome, man! Only fussy aristocrats like Mr. Edelstein would do something like that."

"Exactly. And that's why you're going to need to ask him to help."

Gilbert's eyes nearly bulged out of his skull at this proposition. " _Mein Gott,_ you've got to be kidding. You're kidding, right?" Lovino did not shake his head or laugh or give any indication that his suggestion was merely just a joke.

"No. Look, I know how Mr. Edelstein gets on your nerves, but he's still our conductor and you need his permission to do this. So just suck it up, okay?"

Gilbert rolled his eyes and pouted. "Fine, whatever. So then, what am I supposed to play? _Mary Had a Little Lamb_?"

"Sure, if you want to make a giant fool out of yourself," replied Lovino sarcastically. "This is what someone might call a conflict of interest for me, so I'd rather you not. If you could write something new, she'd be pretty damn impressed."

Words got caught in Gilbert's throat. Should he just spit them out, or swallow them?

_I could write a song. I have, already._

"Oi. Bastard, are you still there?"

" _Ja._ And… I know one song…" A twinge of a smile played upon Gilbert's lips. Was he really ready to follow through with this?

"And it's an awesome one."

* * *

**NOTES**

\- _Mon Dieu_ (French): My God

\- _Je déteste les gens comme toi. Ils sont… horribles_ (French): I hate people like you. They are... horrible.

- _Il avait raison. Tu es un monstre. Je ne sais pas pourquoi il voulait t'aider._ (French): He was right. You are a monster. I don't know why he wanted to help you.

\- _Vous pensez vraiment que la violence résoudra tout? Bâtard! Tu aurais pu le tuer!_ (French): You really think that violence will solve everything? Bastard! You could have killed him!

\- _Étiez-vous excité?_ (French): Ok, if there's anyone who speaks French out there you might be able to understand what this is better. I'll let you figure out what this one means. I'm pretty Google Translate won't give you the correct answer anyway. Here's a small hint: "excited" would be a little bit of an understatement.

\- _Sta 'zitto_ (Italian): Shut up

\- If you find an error with my translations, feel free to notify me! I've been looking for an editor, too, if anyone is interested.

\- This fic is kind of slow-burn. Hehe. It kind of turns out that way with all of my works, I guess. Maybe it's cause I'm just too reluctant to let it end.

\- Try guessing what Prussia's song is going to be. It's kind of obvious though, isn't it? HINT: Prussia has said the song's title multiple times throughout this entire work.

Lots of French in here today. Eh, this chapter was pretty fun to write nevertheless. Thanks for reading!


	22. Pusillanimous

It was a fine Wednesday morning. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping—and Alfred was a total nervous wreck. The Homecoming dance was in three days, and that was _including_ this one! He still hadn't managed to muster up the courage to ask Tolys to go to the party with him, and a fear began to wrap its ugly claws around his mind.

_Someone might have already asked._

Tolys had been acting rather happy for the last few days, a sharp contrast from his usual anxious demeanor. It was by no means a bad thing—Alfred was glad that Tolys was in a better mood. But what could have warranted that happiness?

It could have been something simple. While they were only Juniors, many students in their grade liked to get a head start on college applications. Perhaps Tolys got accepted into a particularly esteemed university.

Or, something not-so-simple.

Like love.

Had Tolys finally found somebody? Or maybe…

Somebody had found him.

_Ivan._

The events of the stormy night flickered through Alfred's mind like an old movie. Except things really weren't so black-and-white when it came to that. Matthew had made it quite clear that he didn't like Ivan, and Matthew was fine with basically anyone.

_Maybe it's because that commie literally tried to kill me._

Alfred could practically feel Ivan's hand around his throat, suffocating him. Ready to crush his jugular in an instant. It was a sick feeling. He felt a tide of nausea wash over his body.

"Al? Are you there? We're going to be late," Matthew said as he entered his brother's bedroom.

Alfred adjusted his silver-rimmed glasses which somehow managed to sit askew on the bridge of his nose. "Yeah, I'm almost ready."

He was almost ready. His backpack was sitting on the floor, leaning against the side of the bed. He was dressed in W academy's neat uniform, with his hair neatly combed (with the exception of that one stray piece.)

But at the same time, Alfred wasn't ready at all. What would he say? What would he do? He _had_ to make a move, before somebody else made one before him.

_Like Ivan._

It was almost like a game of chess—but without any rules. There was no say on who took their turn, no order at all. Simply one thing:

If you want to make a move, make it.

Alfred had to win. He _needed_ to. It shouldn't be too hard, right? He was strong, handsome, and outgoing. Meanwhile, Ivan was creepy and intimidating and didn't even know how to interact with others without making them run crying.

Matthew crossed his arms over his chest, eyeing Alfred suspiciously. "Like I believe that," he said sarcastically. "This is about Tolys, isn't it?"

Alfred nodded sheepishly. "Mhmm. I decided that I'm gonna make my move today."

Matthew raised an eyebrow. "Isn't that what you said yesterday? And the day before?"

Alfred opened his mouth to protest, only to realize his brother was very much correct. He had planned on talking to Tolys on Tuesday afternoon. He'd even given himself a quick pep talk in the bathroom mirror before walking out to the courtyard where Tolys had been sitting earlier.

Perhaps "quick" would be a severe understatement. One minute turned into five minutes. Five minutes turned into fifteen minutes. Before he knew it, Tolys had already left the school.

"Yeah, yeah. But I'm actually going to ask him this time! Just watch!" Alfred insisted, trying to appear confident.

Matthew smiled. "Alright, then. Good luck with it."

"Pfft. As if I need luck. I'm the hero, Matt!"

Another lie. Alfred needed luck. Without it, he would probably just end up making a total fool out of himself. Or, alternatively, his brain would just short-circuit just like how Ludwig's did when he was out having dinner with Feliciano on Valentine's day of the year prior.

"How could I forget? But you _do_ realize it's almost 8:00, right?"

Alfred's eyes darted to the digital alarm clock on his bedside table. Sure enough, 8:00 AM was spelled in luminous, red, characters for him to see.

"Shit!" Alfred yelled as he snatched his bag from the ground. "C'mon, dude! We've got a bus to catch!"

┏━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┓

Elizaveta waited at the doorstep, biting her lip nervously. Gilbert hadn't overslept again, had he? She made a mental note to yell at him about it the moment he set foot outside his house.

Just when she was least expecting it, the door flung open. There stood Gilbert, his choppy white hair a total mess. Elizaveta would have normally scolded him about this, too, but she couldn't help but find Gilbert's bedhead someone endearing.

"Hey, Liz!" Gilbert yelled in greeting. Elizaveta glared at him in response.

"What were you doing in there? Certainly not taming that bird's nest." Elizaveta gestured loosely to Gilbert's hair.

Gilbert pouted. "You on your period, or something?"

She shook her head, contemplating whether she should punch him. "No! It's 8 in the morning, and I really didn't have to drag my ass all the way out here just to wait for hours for you to get ready."

Elizaveta's statement was somewhat of an exaggeration. She had lived near Gilbert her entire life. They weren't next-door neighbors, but her house was diagonally across from his.

"But you still did," Gilbert offered with his signature shit-eating grin.

Elizaveta sighed and began to walk. "Yeah. I did." While she didn't necessarily want to admit it, she genuinely cared about him. They had been friends for so long; it was only natural.

But what she knew wasn't natural was the strange feeling she would get every time she inadvertently held eye contact with Gilbert for a few seconds too long. Her heartbeat would quicken at the slightest touch, like the accidental brushing of their hands. Elizaveta never felt this way before. All throughout the first 17 years of her life, the odd, fluttery, feeling was foreign to her. Some of her friends would go on and on about love ; exploring their interests eagerly. Love was like uncharted territory to Elizaveta. Well, there was that small crush she had on the conductor Mr. Edelstein. He was posh and almost royal in the way in which he carried himself. Dignified and polished, unlike many of the other boys at W Academy.

Elizaveta stole a glance at Gilbert, who was distracted by a nearby squirrel. Her German companion (who claimed to be Prussian) was almost like Mr. Edelstein's complete opposite. Gilbert was loud and cocky; Mr. Edelstein was calm and composed.

_Opposites attract, they say. I wonder…_

Elizaveta's mind wandered more than she'd let on. She'd taken a (somewhat) embarrassing interest in media involving and/or following relationships between two males. Whether said relationships were 100% wholesome or not was, more often than not, determined by her mood.

_Yes. I can see where that would go._

She was fairly lucky, too. Most (if not all) of the fellow students at World Academy swung either both ways or every way, making every day like a fantasy for her. Elizaveta observed many relationships over the years. Particularly one involving Ludwig and Feliciano. She had taken care of the two when they were younger, and seeing their bashful and innocent interactions were nothing if not amusing.

 _Well, mostly innocent,_ Elizaveta thought as she recalled the incident involving Ludwig accidentally pulling young Feliciano's underwear off.

Word of Feliciano and Ludwig's newly-confirmed couple status spread like wildfire, traveling through the hallways at record speed.

_Ah, how adorable. I'm glad to see that they're official, now!_

Elisaveta was roughly pulled away from her thoughts as the loud _snap_ of a branch underneath Gilbert's foot registered in her ear.

Gilbert flinched and stopped for a second, then kicked the branch (now broken in two) away. He was acting oddly jumpy, that morning. A detail that Elizaveta did not fail to catch.

 _What's happening with him_?

Normally, Gilbert would be the one to start the conversation; animatedly retelling his so-called awesome and true stories about his antics with the rest of the Bad Touch Trio while occasionally going off into unrelated (yet somehow still interesting) tangents.

Now, Gilbert didn't say a single thing. He kept his crimson eyes trailed on the pavement, only breaking his stare to look up to make sure he didn't bump into anyone or anything.

Elizaveta should have been glad. Hearing his obnoxiously loud, scratchy, voice first thing in the morning wasn't very appealing. Shouldn't she be happy that she didn't have to deal with it?

_Maybe I'm just used to it, by now._

An awkward tension hovered between them. Almost like a thick cloud of fog, a hazy smoke that made it next to impossible to tell what the other person was thinking.

Elizaveta intended to break it, with small-talk popping up as the first solution.

"So, uh, Homecoming is coming up soon, isn't it?" Elizaveta waited for a response, any sort of sign that Gilbert was himself.

To Gilbert's credit, she did get a response. A half-hearted one.

" _Ja._ "

Elizaveta pursed her lips. Gilbert had been so excited about Homecoming; he'd been talking about how excited he was for hours on the phone about a few days before.

What had gotten into him?

"Gil. You're acting funny," Elizaveta said. "Are you okay? You're not sick or anything, right?" She placed a hand on Gilbert's forehead.

Within an instant, his pale skin flushed with red.

Elizaveta drew her hand back quickly, feeling her own face heat up, too.

_So weird._

"I'm fine! Everything's great," assured Gilbert, his voice cracking just a little.

"You don't look fine," Elizaveta insisted. "Is something bothering you?"

Gilbert shoved his hands in his pocket, still refusing to make eye contact. "Not something. Someone."

Elizaveta's eyes widened.

_He could be getting bullied. Though, that's strange… normally he'd be able to defend himself or laugh everything off._

"Someone?" she echoed, her voice curious. "Who? You know you can tell me anything, Gil."

Gilbert shook his head. "Just this one thing… I can't. Sorry, Liz."

Now, Elizaveta was even more suspicious.

_When has he ever apologized for anything?_

Even when Gilbert was caught vandalizing one of the bathroom stalls, he didn't even seem the slightest bit sorry. Had he apologized, he would have gotten off on just a couple of weeks of detention.

Instead, he was suspended for the rest of the month.

Elizaveta was getting annoyed. What did he really have to hide from her? Didn't he trust her?

_I guess if he doesn't want to talk about it, I shouldn't press him._

"Hey… so… you know the concert on Friday?"

Elizaveta felt like a weight had been removed off her shoulders. It looked like their conversation was finally going somewhere. "Mhmm. I still can't believe Mr. Edelstein hasn't told us what that god-forsaken piece is even called, yet."

Gilbert looked uncomfortable at the mention of Mr. Edelstein. His gait was beginning to look less like a swagger and more like an awkward pace.

"Yeah. Totally un-awesome, of him."

Elizaveta squinted her eyes. They were nearing W Academy's entrance, already. She slid her phone out of her bag and turned it on.

It was only 8:09. She deduced that she would arrive at the school in less than 3 minutes, leaving her with about 45 minutes to do whatever she pleased before the first period started.

"What're you going to do?" Elizaveta asked.

Gilbert furrowed his brow. "Huh?"

"Like, once we get there. We still have time," she reminded.

"Oh. Yeah. I was going to hang out with Francis and Toni."

Elizaveta saw right through the lie. Francis hated coming to school earlier than he had to (claiming that it would ruin his beauty sleep) and Antonio had sectionals on Wednesday.

"Is that so?"

Gilbert stared at her for a few seconds before rolling his eyes and admitting. " _Nein._ I was actually going to talk to Miss Priss."  
'Miss Priss' just so happened to be Gilbert's flattering nickname for Mr. Edelstein.

Although, Elizaveta was still somewhat surprised. Gilbert didn't even like being in the same room as Mr. Edelstein. Why would he go out of his way to talk with him?

"Well, I suppose you're at least being productive today," she said with a small chuckle.

"Yeah. I guess I am."

* * *

**NOTES:**

Firstly, I'd like to say that I'm sorry this update took a while. This chapter might not have been the most climactic either, but I felt like I needed to set things up before some of the real stuff begins.

Secondly, writing hotheaded Prussia as an awkward, shy, teenage boy was pretty fun.

You might have seen that I have some new works. I'd _really_ appreciate it if you'd check them out! If you're looking for some PruAus, (because you won't find it in this story) I think _Danse Bacchanale_ will be perfect for you! Part of the reason why this update was slower was that I've been working on that story, so any support would help a lot :)

Thanks for reading!


	23. Now or Never

Tolys shoved another book into the shelf, being careful that its fraying bindings didn't snap. He sighed and reached for the next one in the cart, only for his hand to be met with air. He smiled demurely, pleasantly surprised at how productive he was being. 

_Already finished. Perhaps taking a break right now wouldn't be so bad of an idea._

Tolys hadn't been given such a privilege in quite some time. His schedule was almost always busy, and his submissive nature made it even easier for people to pile up even more work and responsibility on him. It was a lot to handle for just one person, which was precisely why there was another person standing by the next shelf over, twisting a lock of blonde hair between his fingers. 

"Honestly, I don't even get why you spend 4th period in this place," Feliks said flippantly. His remark was followed by an exaggerated yawn. "It's such a drag."

Tolys rolled his eyes. "We've been over this. Even if it's a 'drag,' I like this place because it's quiet," he insisted. Being constantly surrounded by people wasn't rare in a populated school like World Academy, especially when Tolys was acquainted with people with stronger personalities like Ivan or Alfred. The library was like his escape from reality, a place where he could just think. It certainly wasn't just a free period, though. His actual reason for being in the library was to work as an assistant and re-shelve books, a task that could get more than just a little bit mundane if done for hours on end. 

Feliks shrugged. "Whatever you say, Liet. But, yanno, this is probably why you're not the best at socializing." He examined his nails (painted bright pink, of course,) for a short moment. "Oh! Speaking of socializing..." A smirk slid onto Felik's face, and Tolys fought the urge to groan out loud. 

Tolys knew exactly where the conversation was headed, and he _really_ didn't like it. 

"Ugh! C'mon, I know you said you weren't gonna go, but you just _have_ to!" Feliks pleaded. He didn't even have to say what he was talking about, Tolys already could tell. 

"Feliks, I said I wasn't going to go because I'm not going to go. How many times do I have to tell you?" Tolys rubbed his temples and cast an annoyed glance at his best friend. "Besides, it's not like I've got a date or anything."

Feliks rejected the statement with a wave of his hand. "That's, like, gotta be the worse excuse I've ever heard from you. I don't have a date either, remember?" 

"Yeah, but... but..." Tolys racked his brain for any other argument he could put up, anything that was solid enough to get Feliks to stop pestering him about Homecoming. Unfortunately, he came up dry. "You're popular, and stuff..."

Feliks grinned in a Cheshire cat-like manner. "And you're my best friend, which obviously makes you popular by association." He slung his arm around Tolys' shoulder to make his point and used the close proximity to whispered something into the brunette's ear.

"And that also means if _you_ don't go, I'll look dumb, too. See, it goes both ways!" 

"Yeah, kind of like you," Tolys responded without thinking. 

Feliks stared at his friend for a few seconds before bursting out into a fit of giggles. 

"Damn! That was hilarious!" Feliks exclaimed between laughs. "With that kind of sass, I'm sure you're totally gonna find somebody to go to Homecoming with." 

A burst of warmth ignited in Tolys' chest. Somehow, in that very moment, all his doubts vaporized. 

_Maybe he's right._

"I guess... I really don't know yet, Feliks." 

Mischief sparkled in Feliks' eyes. "I bet that you're gonna know really soon." 

Tolys furrowed his eyebrows and crossed his arms over his chest. "As if I have an insanely attractice person standing in front of the door, waiting to ask me out," he said sarcastically. "Like I've been telling you, it's not going to happen." 

Feliks flicked a piece of hair from the front of his face. "We'll have to see about that." 

┏━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┓

"Mr. Jones, I cannot even begin to express how irresponsable I think you're being."

Alfred flashed his conductor a toothy grin. "Well, you can at least try!"

Mr. Edelstein frowned and huffed, somehow making the action seem dignified. "I'm afraid I cannot. Need I remind you of our concert on Friday?"

Alfred groaned and put on a pleading look. "C'mon, dude! You _know_ Homecoming's the same day! I have to do this!"

Mr. Edelstein raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "Why, exactly, should I consider that a valid reason for skipping out on practice?"

There seemed to be a dead-end to Alfred's thoughts. He wasn't exactly the brightest when it came to persuasion, or anything at all, really. But right now, he needed to try. And trying required putting in an effort, which was difficult to muster up when his brain was a jumbled mess of nerves and anxiety. 

"Because I—I really need to talk to somebody!" 

Now, Mr. Edelstein caught on. " _Somebody_? Somebody important, I pressume?"

"Yeah, exactly!"

"Foolish teenagers and their young love." The conductor adjusted his glasses and sighed. He reached over to tear a slip from the notepad sitting on the desk. scribbling a few sentences on and then practically shoving it towards Alfred. "There. You have 10 minutes. No more than that."

Alfred smiled gratefully and accepted the note. "Awesome! Thanks a million, Rod!" 

Mr. Edelstein narrowed his eyebrows at the American. "Firstly, my name is Roderich, not Rod. Second, who gave you permission to address me so casually?"

Alfred bit the inside of his mouth. Nobody had actually given him that permission, it was just in his nature to ignore formalities. Most teachers didn't care too much, although the same couldn't be said about Mr. Edelstein. "Haha... right..."

"Hey, _Rod_ ," said a raspy voice from behind. Alfred caught a flash of white in the corner of his vision. 

He turned around fully and easily identified the person as Gilbert. 

Mr. Edelstein's facial expression distorted with disdain. "Mr. Beilschmidt. What do you require, this time?" he asked, his voice seething with passive-aggressiveness. The Austrian and so-called Prussian had never been the best of friends. Alfred was quiet curious as to what brought Gilbert there in the first place, as well. 

Gilbert's arrogance diminished ever-so-slightly, his cocky smirk replaced with a hard line. "The—the awesome details of this dicussion will remain confidential! So," he tapped Alfred on the shoulder. "D'you mind?"

Alfred shook his head and quickly left the room, not intending to intrude. He had something he needed to do, something that he had been procrastinating on for days, perhaps even weeks. Eavesdropping on Gilbert and Mr. Edelstein's conversation didn't even make it on his list of priorities at that moment. 

His hurried footsteps echoed through the empty hallway. Alfred didn't have all the time in the world. He wasn't even sure 10 minutes would suffice. 

_Oh, well. I just gotta make do with what I've got._

He exited the Fine Arts wing and took a sharp right. The North Wing of World Academy was located right near the entrance, consisting of the Front Office, Staff Lounges, and of course, the Library. 

Alfred soon found himself standing in front of a pair of unfamiliar doors. It was embarrassing to admit that he had never actually visited the library more than once during his time at W Academy, playing in perfectly with the highschool jock stereotype. The first visit was with Arthur, who had dragged him along for a much-needed study session. 

Nevertheless, there he was. Alfred knew that Tolys worked as a library assistant during 4th period, and was glad that the information gave him a little advantage. Now, it was just a matter of how soon he would be able to toughen up enough to walk in. 

_It's either now or never._

Alfred flung the door open and took what hoped looked like an unflappable step forward. Once he was inside, he immediately scanned the room in search of a certain brown-haired, green-eyed boy. 

"Hello? Is anyone in there?" he called out loudly. The librarian looked away from her computer and raised a finger to her lips, glaring at Alfred menacingly. 

"Oh, right. Quiet," Alfred muttered. 

A burst of girly laughter coming from behind the Fiction section pierced through his eardrums, followed by an annoyed groan. A student with chin-length blonde hair and a miniskirt revealed himself. 

"Oh my god, Liet! I didn't know you had psychic powers!" Feliks cried. 

_So he **is** here. _

"I don't, Feliks. What are you even talking abou—" Tolys froze, midstep. "Alfred?"

"That's me! Nice seeing ya here, Tolys!" Alfred said in greeting, as if it was completely unplanned. 

"O—Oh, hello," Tolys responded with a shaky smile. "So, uh, is there anything I can help you with?"

"Mhmm! I've got a super important question for you, dude!" 

Without Tolys noticing, Feliks slowly retreating behind the bookshelves, intending to watch the entire situation unfold from afar. 

"Alright, go ahead." Tolys straightened his spine and fought his nervous habits. 

Alfred felt his heart beat grow louder and louder until it was the only thing he could really hear. He prayed that his high-strung disposition wasn't that obvious to Tolys. 

_Either now or never._

_And I choose now._

A figurative clock ticked inside Alfred's mind. _10 minutes_ , he reminded himself. _I have to make these 10 minutes worth my while._

"Will you go to Homecoming with me?" 

The world spilled out of his mouth quickly and suddenly. However, time seemed to slow down enough for Alfred to see the pupils set within Tolys' bright green eyes widen ever so slightly. 

Before Tolys could even provide an answer, a click of a camera followed by another muffled giggle could be heard. 

"I totally called it," Feliks claimed. 

Kiku nodded, still not leaving his hiding place. "Anyone could have." 

┏━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┓

Gilbert removed a pair of somewhat-crinkled papers from his beat-up leather messenger bag. He slammed them onto the table with more force than what was really necessary.

Mr. Edelstein eyed them curiously, with his inquisitiveness quickly shifting to suspicion. " _Mein Gott_? What exactly are you trying to say, Beilschmidt?"

Gilbert pursed his lips, biting back a sour, sarcastic, reply. The image of Elizaveta came to mind. He drew in a sharp breath. 

"I'm saying that I need your help."


	24. Restlessness

"Honestly, this is a complete and utter mess!"

Alfred and Matthew exchanged wary glances but didn't dare let out even a single whisper. The rest of the rehearsal hall was silent, the tension so thick and heavy in the air. Arguing with the conductor when they're already pissed is _never_ a good idea. 

"We have _two_ _days_ ," Mr. Edelstein said, stomping over to the calendar near his desk and pointing to one of the boxes. "Only two days until our concert. I was under the assumption that you all actually _cared_ about music, but apparently, I was sorely mistaken."

From the corner of his eye, Alfred caught sight of his bandmates' reactions. Gilbert (who wasn't too difficult to find in the crowd with his ghostly appearance) watched Mr. Edelstein scold the students with indifference, although he didn't look bemused as he typically would. Elizaveta had her lips pursed into an uneasy frown, her eyes darting around the room rapidly. It was a strange disparity, as she would normally stare at the Austrian as a fangirl would stare at one of her favorite idols.

Not having eyes at the back of his head, Alfred couldn't tell what the percussionists were thinking. Although, on a usual day, there would be _some_ sort of cacophony of noises coming from the percussion section, whether it be the accidental _CRASH_ of a dropped cymbal, the quiet-but-still-somewhat-audible marimba rhythms that were usually a result of Lukas's boredom, or Mathias's loud chatter. 

Alfred heard none of it. 

It was almost eerie to hear the band hall in such a pin-drop silent state. 

"This piece is simple! One of the simplest we've had!" Edelstein crossed his arms over his chest and glared daggers at the students. "Marching season hasn't even started yet, and I'm already starting to see a drop in motivation." 

Alfred wished things would have been different. The conductor's stern lecture put a damper on what would otherwise be singlehandedly one of the best days of his life. 

He felt the corners of his lips twitching, threatening to pull themselves into a wide grin. Even thinking about it made him happy.

 _He said yes,_ Alfred thought to himself for the 50th time. _He actually said yes!_

"—the dynamics are _horrendous_ at measure 20. And, Euphoniums, do you even know how to count?" 

_Man, Tolys sure is something. Probably even more than that. He's kind, he's smart, he's hardworking..._

_And he's got a six-pack, too. To be honest, I wouldn't have expected him to be the type of guy to have one._

_Whatever. It just makes him **that** much better!_

_"—_ staccato, Clarinets! Nothing else is acceptable!"

Mr. Edelstein's words became like white-noise in the midst of Alfred's daydream. He felt somewhat like the female protagonist of one of the shoujo mangas Kiku introduced him to. Mad in love, to the point where he could barely think straight. 

_But I guess thinking 'straight' has never been a specialty of mine._

Above all, there was one more thing that gave Alfred his daily-dose-of-dopamine. 

The fact that he beat Ivan. 

It was no secret that Ivan had _some_ interest in Tolys; albeit, his methods being more than just a little bit sadistic. 

Alfred felt a shiver run down his spine. 

_I know that first hand._

His terrifying experience with Ivan the night of the storm was, well, _terrifying._ Not only was Alfred placed at the mercy of his sworn enemy, but his pride was dented, too. 

_I couldn't fight back. I— I thought I was stronger than that._

_Is that how Tolys feels?_

"—my grandmother could play measure 13 livelier, Trombones. And she's _dead_!" 

Alfred clenched and unclenched his fist. The Homecoming dance was mere days away, and his mission was finally complete. 

_I've got a date with one of the sweetest guys at W. There's nothing else to worry about, right?_

Except the fact that _another_ event was scheduled to take place on the same day. 

"—and, Trumpets, if you play even one decibel louder, you will shatter the audiences' eardrums. Need I remind you of the difference between mezzo-forte and fortissimo?"

Alfred sighed the warm feeling in his chest momentarily disappearing. 

_Oh, right. There's that._

He focused on the sheet of music in front of him. Naturally, the dynamic marking read mezzo-forte. 

The problem was, Alfred didn't exactly _do_ mezzo-forte. He liked to "live out loud," (or as Arthur put it, annoy everyone within a five-foot radius.) The idea of an "inside voice" along with formalities went over Alfred's head. 

"—finally, with all that being said, I do hope we can produce an adequate performance, at the very least," Mr. Edelstein huffed. He brought out his baton and adjusted his glasses, the scowl on his face softening to a frown. "We'll go from the top." 

* * *

Tolys _still_ couldn't process what was going on. His mind was on a rollercoaster of emotions, and it refused to get off. 

"—really, the dress wasn't even _that_ expensive. Like, I don't mind shelling out 200 euros for the sake of fashion." Feliks twisted a strand of blonde hair around his index finger. "And, of course, I did. Totally worth it." 

"Mhmm," Tolys mumbled absentmindedly with a lazy nod. "Sounds great." He was beginning to feel a little dizzy, with nothing but a bookshelf to keep his balance. There wasn't much of a reason to stay at the library; all his tasks for the period had been completed. Even the librarian had gone off to the lounge, already. 

The only thing keeping him from leaving was his own muddied thoughts. Tolys never had many friends, to begin with, but he was lucky to have one as loyal as Feliks. The blonde was a great listener, though he did enjoy sorting through Tolys's romantic life more than Tolys did himself. 

"Y'know, I'm starting to think that you aren't even listening to me," Feliks commented with a frown. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, incredible..." 

"It's about _him,_ isn't it?"

"W-what? No!" Tolys denied quickly.

"Gosh, no need to get your panties in a twist," assured Feliks. "But, I never even mentioned who I was talking about, so..." 

Tolys buried his face in his hands and let out a frustrated groan. "Alfred. It's Alfred."

Feliks smirked. "Mm. He's a great catch, Liet. You've _no idea_ how lucky you are."

"Really?" Tolys questioned. "I don't _feel_ very lucky. I'm just... a mess."

"C'mon, half the girls at this place would, like, give their right arm to be in your place. And don't even get me _started_ on the guys!"

"Well, to be fair, Alfred is kind of attractive..." 

Feliks raised one eyebrow.

"Okay, fine! Really attractive."

It was all common knowledge, apparently. Tolys had been friends with Alfred for some time, so appearances didn't exactly prioritize themselves. It was, however, pleasing to think that such a popular person took interest in him. 

_Alfred isn't just a pretty face. He's more than that._

_He's enthusiastic. Sweet. A little childish, but in that sort-of endearing way._

"Excuse me, I don't mean to interrupt, but..." A short, black-haired, boy emerged from behind one of the bookshelves, with a few volumes of manga in his arms and a camera hanging around his neck. "May I check these out?"

"Oh—Kiku! certainly!" Tolys scrambled to get behind the checkout desk, with the other boy placing the manga on the counter. 

_Was he listening, the entire time?_

Immediately, Tolys felt very embarrassed. What further developed his suspicions was the small, satisfied, smile present on Kiku's face. What else could be interesting enough to bring such emotion to the level-headed Asian? 

The moment the last of the books were scanned, Kiku left the library in a dash. 

Tolys watched him go curiously. 

_Weird._

* * *

"Seriously, what is _wrong_ with you, today?"

Gilbert forced a cocky grin. "No idea what you're talking about, Liz." 

Elizaveta slid a sheet of music out of her binder and onto the stand, all while eyeing Gilbert suspiciously. "Yeah, right. You were doing it this morning, too."

Gilbert shoved his hands deep into his pockets, crossing and uncrossing his legs. "S-so, what? That proves nothing!"

"No, it proves everything!" Elizaveta argued. "The worst part is, you won't even tell me!"

Frankly, Elizaveta was getting tired of putting up with it. She really wished she could just let the entire thing go and wait for her friend to tell her himself, but she'd never been the most patient person in the world. 

"And, I'm not gonna," insisted Gilbert. "So, there!"

The two sat in silence for a few moments. Mr. Edelstein had "graciously" allowed them some free-time right before lunch, with the heavy implication of "you better go practice" during said free-time. This is what led Gilbert to a situation that he was certain would be his ultimate demise: being alone in a practice room with Elizaveta Hédévary. 

"Fine," Elizaveta scoffed. "Have it your way."

More silence ensued, causing a nervous atmosphere to form around them, not unlike the one present in the band hall during Mr. Edelstein's little rant. 

"So, then..." Gilbert accidentally let his voice crack, internally cringing at how utterly foolish he sounded. To distract from it, he decided to bring up a topic from their previous conversation on the walk to school that morning. "You going to Homecoming?"

Elizaveta shrugged. "Honestly, I'm not too sure. The only reason I'd be going at all would be to help Kiku take pictures for the yearbook."

_Psh. 'Pictures'? Candid shots of Francis and Arthur making out in the bathroom, more like it._

Still, there was some hope in this. For the plan Lovino had discussed with Gilbert a few days back to work, Elizaveta had to be planning on attending, already. 

"How about you?" Elizaveta asked. 

Gilbert felt his entire body tense up. "M-me?" He wasn't expecting _that._ "I... I mean, of course, I'm going! It's a Bad Touch Tradition, obviously!" 

Indeed, it was. At the beginning of Freshman year at World Academy, Gilbert, Francis, and Antonio had made a promise that they would attend every school event they could. 

Every. 

Single. 

One. 

Football games, tennis matches, chess tournaments, pep rallies _—_ if it existed, the Bad Touch Trio attended. 

And, of course, dances and parties were no exceptions. 

But even if they had dates to these events (like how Francis got Arthur to go to the previous year's homecoming with him) they would almost _always_ spend most of the night hanging out together. 

_Friendship over romance, huh._

_Not this time._


	25. Showtime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Two minutes._   
>  _Two minutes until showtime._

“Two minutes, everyone!” Mr. Edelstein said, although the dramatics of it made his statement seem much more like a grand declaration. “Only two minutes left, until those curtains open.” He pointed a manicured finger towards the pleated velvet which acted as the only barrier between the audience and them. “Parents, teachers, friends, complete strangers— they will all be hearing your music.”

Feliciano’s heartbeat was deafening— blood and nerves and pure adrenaline pulsed through his veins. He could only hope that nobody else could hear it. 

Because this wasn’t any ordinary concert.

Feliciano glanced at his instrument, one last time. He wouldn’t be needing it, this time. 

Because tonight, Feliciano Vargas wasn’t just another Tenor Saxophone— he wasn’t just another face in the crowd. 

Tonight, he was going to sing. 

Sing the song he had written and rehearsed  _ thousands _ upon  _ thousands _ of times. 

To put it simply, Feliciano was terrified. 

Terrified that he would mess up, triggering a chorus of jeers and mocking laughter replacing what  _ should  _ have been applause. 

Then, Feliciano stood, ignoring the tremor in his knees and fear in his heart. He rested the saxophone on his seat, locking eye contact with his older brother for a split second. 

Lovino gave him a reassuring look that practically screamed ‘ _you better_ _break a leg or I’ll break yours_!’

Aside from Lovino, everyone else around Feliciano looked very confused. The rest of the saxophone section broke out into quiet murmurs, conspiracizing amongst themselves what the Italian was trying to do. 

But none of their theories would ever be correct.

Because they didn’t know that the unnamed song they were playing actually had lyrics. 

Feliciano began to walk in shaky steps, making his way to the small riser Mr. Edelstein had set up just for him. Nobody else knew what it was for, or why there was a mic attached to it. 

Mr. Edelstein continued speaking as he approached the Conductor’s podium. “And with all that being said, let’s try to make this the best music the world has ever heard.” 

_ Here we go.  _

࿇ ══━━━━✥◈✥━━━━══ ࿇

Gilbert felt something poke the back of his neck. 

“Are you nervous, right now?” Elizaveta questioned playfully. 

Gilbert smirked, rejecting the accusation as quickly as he could. “No way in hell. The Awesome Me never gets nervous.” 

Oh, who was he kidding?  _ Of course,  _ Gilbert was nervous! Not for this specific piece, (it was laughably simple to play, after all,) but for… something else. Something that a certain Italian boy had suggested for him to do. Something that involved negotiating with that stuffy aristocrat, much to Gilbert’s own chagrin. Something that could either make or break his entire reputation, along with his relationship with a gorgeous, witty, brown-haired, Hungarian girl. 

_ Gottverdammt. She better say yes, or I’m doing this all for nothing.  _

“Well, it certainly seems that way,” insisted Elizaveta. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost!” She immediately retracted her words, remembering who exactly she was talking to. “Erm… even more so, than usual,” she added quickly. 

Gilbert refused to believe that his skin could get any paler than it already was. “Nah, that’s just the lighting.” 

“Yeah,  _ sure _ . Whatever you say, Gil.” 

Gilbert snickered, sticking his tongue out at Elizaveta before turning back around to face the front. As soon as his face was out of her view, the mischievous grin dropped.

_ Scheiße.  _

_ Am I biting off more than I can chew? _

_ What if she doesn’t like it? _

_ What if she ends up falling head-over-heels for that stupid little priss instead of me? _

_ … _

_ Okay, fine, maybe Edelstein’s not a  _ **_complete_ ** _ priss. He  _ **_is_ ** _ helping me out with this, but still! _ _   
_ The conductor cleared his throat loudly. “Two minutes, everyone! Only two minutes left, until those curtains open.” 

Gilbert stared at the curtains. They were thick enough to muffle the sounds of the audience stirring in the auditorium in front of them, but not completely. It was an ever-present reminder of just  _ how many people  _ were watching— 

_ And listening,  _ Gilbert reminded himself. 

He shuddered, tugging at his navy blue tie. He preferred to dress casually, (or as Ludwig sometimes put it, sloppily.) But for this event, he was forced to comply with the formal dress code he despised so much. 

It was even fancier than the usual dress-shirt-and-pants requirement for most band concerts. The Homecoming dance taking place shortly after was to be blamed for that. 

_ It’s the first party of the year! I’m not gonna be dancing by myself, that’s for sure. _

_ Or with some stranger.  _

Gilbert wanted  _ her.  _ Hell, you could even say he  _ needed  _ her. 

Unfortunately, he was a terrible communicator. Especially when it came to romance. 

Although...

He wasn’t a terrible singer. His style was… unconventional, yes, and not particularly easy on the ears, but...

Gilbert locked eyes with Mr. Edelstein, magenta eyes burning into violet. 

Suddenly, the Austrian’s rambling wasn’t just playing in the background of Gilbert’s thoughts. 

“And with all that being said, let’s try to make this the best music the world has ever heard.” 

_ Mein Gott.  _

_ I’m never gonna forget this, huh _ ?

_ I might as well just make it awesome.  _

࿇ ══━━━━✥◈✥━━━━══ ࿇

“Looks like  _ somebody _ ’s excited,” Matthew remarked. 

“Damn right, I am,” Alfred responded, enthusiasm dripping from his voice. 

The concert was sort of like a footnote in his mind, overshadowed by another event succeeding it:

The Homecoming dance. 

Alfred was  _ beyond  _ exhilarated. 

Finally,  _ finally,  _ he had won. 

He asked Tolys Laurinaitis to come to the dance with him. 

And Tolys Laurinaitis said  _ yes.  _

_ Ha! Take that Ivan, you communist bastard! _

_ The hero always wins, in the end.  _

Alfred stared at his trumpet, seeing his own distorted reflection staring back at him. 

A sort of sick feeling washed over him.

_ But… _

_ Is that all it was? Just… a game?  _

_ I mean, Tolys is a great guy, and all, but…  _

_ Is  _ **_he_ ** _ really all I wanted? Or did I just pursue him to stick it to Ivan? _

Alfred was beginning to doubt everything. His motives, his decisions,  _ himself— _ The truth was, he really didn’t feel the same heart-fluttering, hand-shaking, sensation he felt right when he first found out he had feelings for Tolys. 

_ He’s easy to talk to and super understanding, and I like him for that.  _

_ But I _ — 

_ I just can’t say I love him.  _

_ Besides, that’s really not fair. I can’t just…  _ **_use_ ** _ him as a trophy, or something. Just something to brag about.  _

_ He’s a person.  _

_ He deserves better than that.  _

Alfred parted his lips, about to say something that could account for all the thoughts he was having at the moment and hope Matthew would get it. 

Unfortunately, it was too late. 

“Two minutes, everyone!” Mr. Edelstein announced, destroying any opportunity for further conversation. “Only two minutes left, until those curtains open. Parents, teachers, friends, complete strangers— they will all be hearing your music.”

Alfred and Matthew exchanged glances. 

_ Maybe I should keep my mind off the whole Homecoming thing. Even for just a little while.  _

_ I gotta live in the moment, yeah? _

“And with all that being said, let’s try to make this the best music the world has ever heard.” 

Alfred grinned to himself, both his eyebrows angled downwards in determination. 

_ Let’s do it.  _

࿇ ══━━━━✥◈✥━━━━══ ࿇

It had been quite a while since Ivan had seen Mr. Edelstein, ever since the Austrian was transferred to the Band department. 

But, now, they were going all-in. Strings, brass, woodwinds— _ everyone.  _

Mrs. Rutherford decided to allow the Band director to take control of the concert that night, as he had experience teaching both departments. 

Although, it was quite difficult for Ivan to focus on his playing. Especially with one bitter thought looming over his head like a storm cloud. 

_ Alfred won.  _

_ He has Tolys.  _

The information was practically common knowledge, at that point. Especially considering that Alfred was one of the most popular students at W, it was no secret as to who he was planning to take to Homecoming. 

Ivan sighed. 

_ I should have just treated Tolys better. Maybe, then…  _

**_I_ ** _ would have won.  _

_ I wonder if he would— _

The thought was left incomplete; interrupted by Mr. Edelstein’s voice. 

“Two minutes, everyone! Only two minutes left, until those curtains open.” 

Time really did pass by, didn’t it? 

Almost  _ too  _ fast. 

“Parents, teachers, friends, complete strangers— they will all be hearing your music.”

A longer pause. Ivan could hear the muttering of the rest of the Orchestra; hushed, quick, words that were important enough to be said, but not important enough to be said at full volume. 

“And with all that being said, let’s try to make this the best music the world has ever heard.” 

_ Let’s get this over with.  _

࿇ ══━━━━✥◈✥━━━━══ ࿇

Kiku was no stranger to drama. Despite appearing as a quiet and timid person, the Japanese boy  _ lived  _ for drama. Perhaps it was some sort of blessing from the stars that allowed him to attend a school like World Academy, where one could find all sorts of juicy things without even looking for it. 

Like,  _ soap opera  _ level drama. 

So, naturally, Kiku always had his trusty camera on hand to capture those…  _ specific  _ moments. 

“Ugh… it’s  _ way  _ too dark in here,” Leon complained, narrowing his amber eyes in a squint and shifting in his seat. 

“I believe that it is intentional,” Kiku responded. “Perhaps they wanted to draw more attention towards the performers, rather than everything else.” 

Leon grumbled something under his breath and brought out his phone, opting to scroll through Twitter instead. 

Kiku pursed his lips in silent disapproval. 

_ Hopefully, he gets off his phone once the orchestra actually starts to play.  _

He fiddled around with the small piece of paper in his lap _ —  _ his fingers aching to fold it. 

But he didn’t. The piece of paper was the concert’s program, which was supposed to list out every piece the orchestra would be playing in order. 

This time, however, there was only one piece. 

Kiku didn’t even have to look at the program to see what it was called. He already knew. 

_ I am sure Feliciano-kun will sing this song well.  _

And, finally, the curtains rose. 

The conductor tapped the microphone, checking for feedback. 

“Ladies and Gentlemen, my name is Roderich Edelstein, the conductor of the band department. I’d like to thank you all for attending.” 

Kiku lifted a pair of opera glasses to his face _ — _ it was a bit odd-looking, but he really couldn’t care less. 

Through the lenses, he could see everything clearly. 

He saw Feliciano, Lovino, Alfred, Matthew, Gilbert, Elizaveta, Ivan _ — _

“And, I am pleased to present to you the beautiful product of our entire orchestra’s hard work for the past couple of weeks. So, everyone,” Edelstein turned around, raising his baton. “It’s showtime.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh, this was such a fun chapter to write! I like matching up everybody's perspective to the same event, as they are all occurring simultaneously.   
> In the next chapter, the _real_ show begins ;)


End file.
